In Danger
by Tatiana K
Summary: Hank McCoy returns to the mansion and mulls over past sins; Jenna is newly arrived and chooses to hide her past from everyone. Their distaste for one another is overwhelming until they are trapped together in a Danger Room, constantly fighting for their lives. Only then do they really realize how little they know about one another and how much there is to know.
1. Prologue: October

**Quick notes up here:** This is different from my other stories. Fewer chapters but pretty long overall. It's mostly completed which should be a nice change as well. This story is AU in that I'm going with the Jean Grey School setting from Wolverine and the X-Men/All New X-Men, keeping the past events with the Danger Room consistent (from Astonishing X-Men), and then throwing in the Generation X team (because I adore them and Jono and Paige are already at the Jean Grey school in the comics). Also setting it up as post-Abigail Brand and pre-Second Coming. It's messy, but I love the combo it gives!  
Also, there will be two sections of "prologue." They're vital to the story as they set up Jenna and Hank as characters.  
Anyway! On to the story!

 **October**

Hank pushed open the heavy wood doors to the smell of home. Wood polish and hot summer dust with the ever present laundry detergent scent greeted him and he beamed. The Jean Grey School was exactly as it had been before he had left: full of students and chaos and life. It was also lacking all of the things he had hated about SWORD's space station, one person in particular. His hands clenched involuntarily and pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

"Hank!" Banshee caught him at the door giving him a swift hug. "You're just in time! Sorry I can't stick around! You know how it is!"

"Oh do I! Where's your crew?"

"Emma's headed over here and she'll take you to "the kids." I get myself in trouble calling them that." He winked and rushed out to a waiting cab.

Hank had agreed to take over Sean's place on the relatively new group Generation X; relatively in that it was younger than the X-Men but older than about half of the current crews in rotation, old enough that most of them were on staff at the school. It also meant working with Emma Frost, something that made Hank genuinely happy. She was a pain but she was also a friend and he had missed her.

"And I you, though I will _not_ be hugging you," a cool voice chimed into his thoughts.

He turned to smile at Emma. "I'd expect nothing else. How have things been?"

"It's been what… six months? A lot changes in six months here. A few new faces but only a couple of any significance. Follow me. You can 'reconnect' with the team. They will be pleased."

Hank grabbed his bag and followed Emma, stopping several times per hallway to greet someone who was happy to see him back. Emma did not deign to suppress her annoyance but waited as patiently as she was able. Finally she breezed into a room on the second floor with a terrace and a group of mutants laughing in a huddle.

"Beast!"

Hank was nearly bowled over with the force of Jubilation Lee throwing herself at him in a hug.

"Hello to you too!" he laughed.

"Don't do that again, 'k? With Wolverine and you gone… it was almost more than I could handle."

In turn, Hank greeted Paige, Monet (cooly, as was her wont), Everett, Jonothon, and Angelo — the members of Generation X. He waved at Penance and she cocked her head on the side before smiling slightly; her eyes shifted off to the side and Hank followed her gaze as Emma was lecturing the group on being on time for training (their defense was that they were teachers and therefore busy; her response was that it was Saturday and they had no excuse). He wandered over to a chess board on a nearby table. He moved one piece and smiled to himself. Behind him a door slammed and he turned to face someone who had joined them. She looked strikingly distressed and a little starved, with blue hollows under her eyes, which were large and somewhat hooded.

"And speak of the devil!" Emma cried with exasperation. "You are so late you have missed the lecture about _being late_!"

The woman grinned back at her. "Silver lining, right there."

Emma sighed dramatically. She clearly had more words for this newcomer but the woman noticed Hank by the chess board and joined him, scanning the board in a glance.

"Hey Angelo," she called back to the grey skinned young man. "Did you finally see this? Or did you have to Google it?"

Skin joined her. "That wasn't me but I'll take it. I've won!"

The woman's cheeks were turning pink and her eyes met Hank's for the first time. "Did you move the piece?"

"It did seem rather obvious. We haven't met. I'm—" Hank began to hold out his hand but she cut him off.

"What _the hell_? Why would you do that?"

Hank floundered.

"The queen has been there for four moves. He had no idea. Thanks for that."

Hank was caught off guard by her blunt annoyance.

"Oh do shut up, Jennifer," Emma sighed again, choosing to diffuse the situation with a well crafted air of disinterest. "You've won and we all know it. Just play him in Scrabble if you need an ego boost."

"Jenna," the new woman corrected shooting Emma a venomous look. "And where is this 'brilliant doctor' I rushed over here for?"

"I believe that refers to me," Hank cut in. "I'm Dr. Henry McCoy."

Jenna eyed him. " _Really_?" she asked, her tone heavy with disbelief. "You?"

Hank felt his temper flare and fought it down. Jenna's head snapped toward Chamber and they watched each other closely for a minute, clearly using Jono's ability to communicate telepathically and privately. The woman then turned back to Hank.

"I've been told to play nice. Nothing more fun than _two_ people yelling at you in your head. I'm Jenna Coates."

"Well that was painful," Monet commented from a corner of the room where she was reading.

Emma rubbed at her temples. "All of you go to the Danger Room, before I make you."

Hank watched them file out, keeping up a cheerful manor as happiness at his return was reiterated. But when the door shut…

"She's horrid. Is she always like that?"

"Jenna? No. You just rubbed her the wrong way it seems. She and Angelo have a fairly high stakes competition going, something about playing every game on the premises and a wager on who will win the most. She's far more pleasant than when she first joined us."

Hank's eyebrows shot up. "And when was that?"

"About four months ago. The long and short of it is that she left Magneto to join us here. She took to Jonothon and Angelo and here we are."

"Magneto?!"

"They needed a healer and that's her mutation. Very odd variety. You'll work with her more closely, but I'll leave it to Kitty to fill you in. For now you can see them train. We're in the Danger Room. The Bio-sphere has too many inhabitants for us."

Hank stopped by his room, which had been kept waiting for him, and found Bobby Drake looking for him. A bleeding cut on his cheek showed he was clearly just out of training himself, but he was bursting with happiness to see his old friend.

"I got to run but we've got powered volleyball going on the sand courts till it gets too cold. You should join. We're all thrilled you're back."

"I would be honored to destroy whoever dares oppose me."

"After dinner!"

Emma impatiently led him to the Control Room. Jenna was lounging in a rolling desk chair with her feet propped up on one of the panels. Pat Benatar's "Invincible" was blasting in the Danger Room and she grinned as she watched the Gen X-ers in the room pretend to play many air drums and air guitars. She killed the music and dropped her feet quickly when Emma entered.

"Ready?" Emma asked with a sigh.

Jenna nodded, her close cropped bob hiding half her face.

"I'll leave the two of you then," she clipped. "Hank, keep her from killing them."

Hank shouted a mental protest at her, but Emma only smirked and left. Jenna fired up the Danger Room and Hank watched the room below without comment.

Jono had better perfected his ability to create independent creatures from the energy that kept him alive and was now working on detaching them from himself. Skin was working on creating whips or useable extensions and Jubilee was trying to ignite the creatures of energy thrown by Jono. Husk shed her skin quicker than ever and Monet was, of course, perfect. Hank's attention then turned to the woman with him now.

"So your talents lie in computers?" he asked mildly.

"No. I don't fight. So I run the room for them."

"Oh? Pacifist?"

"No. The 'mother of dragons' will tell you I have PTSD, I'm sure."

"You disagree with the diagnosis?"

Her lip visibly curled. "I'd rather not discuss it with _you_."

There was a silence and Hank decided to test his luck. "How did it come about? You falling in with Magneto?"

"How'd you end up back here? Stupid green tart dump you?"

Hank bristled and fought to suppress his anger at the slight. "I would thank you not to speak about my personal affairs like that."

"Then maybe you should nose the hell out of mine."

Hank snarled and moved to the back of the Control Room without a word. How did she even know? It reminded him that his disgrace was known by more people than he would care to imagine. Granted she was on a team he was working with and his absence would need explanation but still… Even after several months the pain was too sharp and present to continue this conversation.

Jenna watched him surreptitiously, mildly regretting her comment, but she did not like him and she was not looking for more "friends." She had been here for four months and had finally scared everyone outside of Gen X into not asking about Magneto. Voyeuristic bullshit, that's what it was; X-Men or not they weren't entitled to open her life and inspect it.

After training, Hank decided his labs needed a visit, since they would have inevitably changed in his absence. Kitty was thrilled to see him, not only because she was fairly overworked.

"And here I was just praying you would show up again and take some of these patients off of my hands and here you are. We should start calling _you_ Angel."

Hank grinned.

"It's good to see that smile. Logan said —"

"Oh my. Let's let that lie."

"Right," Kitty smiled apologetically. "Did Emma send you down here?"

"Just checking in."

"Well, you're taking some of my tough cases."

"I do love a challenge."

"Good attitude, because one of them is Jennifer Coates. We need to index her mutation and I haven't had the time." Kitty laughed as Hank physically winced. "I know, but she's much better. We had to detox her and then teach her English again."

"English?"

"She was speaking so blue it made Angelo blush."

"Emma wouldn't fill me in on her and normally she's ready to dish before you even have to ask. Do you know anything?"

"There's nothing to know. One of Jennifer's conditions for coming here was having her mind sealed so tight no one could ever get in without her consent. She worked with Rachel Summers specifically for that. From what I gather, Emma is extremely displeased at either being shut out or at not being able to break in, especially as this is one of her team. Jennifer did therapy with me a little but she's very closed off and it largely involved her glowering at me. Jono and Angelo are your best bet; they know her best. All I can gather is some past trauma that made the Acolytes seem like the best possible option."

"That's unbelievable."

"I know. She doesn't hold by their ideals from what I gather, but they did something for her so she felt she owed them. Until she didn't, which seems to be her general mode of operation."

"Right. And others?"

"Skin is having problems retaining his shape. His skin sinking has always been a problem but it's getting to be too much. I liked the idea of maybe a suit with a low electric current to keep his cells from being able to change shape but I didn't even want to go there myself. I contacted Forge so he's around. You'll also take Leech. Though I can keep him myself if it's too hard."

"We'll see. Still cure research?"

"Yes. Good intentions but hard work … for a lot of reasons."

"Hard work means a busy mind, which I will gladly welcome right now."

Kitty glanced at the clock. "You eaten yet?"

"No."

Kitty slipped an arm around his waist and smiled up at him. "I'm glad you're back. I can't say that enough."

Volleyball was a relief that night. Hank was happy to feel the setting sun on his face and feel a chill in the air. It was early fall and he was home now.

His teammates were Forge, Rogue, Psylocke, and Northstar against Bobby, Nightcrawler, Cannonball, Storm, and Firestar. While he and Colossus were power hitters and could spike a ball so hard it left a crater, Cannonball and Kurt were both able to return on almost everything. Psylocke was stuck covering most of the very daring dives for their team. And all this was before the added element of powers: volleyballs — frozen solid — fell like cannonballs and were shattered by metal fists, Danni's opponents were never sure if they were seeing a real volleyball or not, Storm would knock the ball off course with a bolt of lightening, Marrow punctured every ball that got too close to the ground, and Forge had incredible reach with his mechanical arm. Beast felt life swelling in him in a way he had missed; being stuck up in that space station had left no room for training, let alone fun.

Even among friends there was a constant danger of injury though, so it wasn't a huge shock when, after getting nailed in the shoulder with a frozen volleyball, Danni decided to call it a night.

As everyone trudged back to the school, Betsy asked what Hank thought of his new team. Hank summarized his first day with them, to the slightly evil delight of those around him.

Cannonball laughed. "Paige said Everett was always radiating pitch black when Jenna first got here."

"Speaking of witches," Marrow said, turning her attention to Hank, "how are you?"

Hank shrugged. "Certainly not missing the Wicked Witch of the North."

"Good," said Storm. "We won't be happy to see you go again any time soon. You were missed."

* * *

Jenna appeared in the doorway as quietly as a shadow the next morning. Emma had ordered her there and had followed her all the way to the stairs down to the labs "to make sure she didn't get lost."

"Should I come back later?" she asked, smirking as Hank jumped.

"No. By all means." Hank motioned to an examination table. She hopped onto the crinkly paper and watched him.

"I will begin by telling you what your file says. It says you're a healer. Would you say this is an accurate statement?"

Jenna nodded.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"No."

"No secondary mutations? Nothing you know about your healing?"

Nothing.

" _How_ do you heal? Are you able to heal others? Yourself?"

She shrugged.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. How about a medical history? What vaccines have you had and so on?"

This upset her more. She openly scowled at him. "That has no bearing on this."

"I cannot help you if you will not tell me anything about yourself."

"You're new here. New to me at least. So let me fill you in. Not telling people about myself? That's kinda my thing. I don't _want_ you to know anything about me, no matter how much that bugs you."

"Are there any secrets you're keeping that I would need to know about before running tests?"

"Not a thing."

"May I take some blood? That will be essential to my being able to help you."

"Sure thing." She jutted the inside of her pale arm toward him and he went for the necessary vials and a needle.

When he tied her upper arm, he noticed her skin was remarkably cool to the touch, but she had no goosebumps. However, when he held her arm to stick the vein, her skin felt a perfectly normal temperature. She was clearly uncomfortable having him at such close quarters but there was no helping it. Hank moved away as soon as he had the blood he needed.

"I'll run tests on this the next few days. I would like to get some idea of your physical condition in the meantime."

He looked up to see a suggestive grin curling her lips. "So you want to check me out?"

"Yes. I would love to watch you run specifically. Everyone has their kink."

Jenna's shocked expression was a reward in and of itself. Hank didn't suppress his smirk at all. Her shock flowed evenly into amusement. "Right. I'll dig out my leather for the occasion."

"Chica!" a familiar voice exploded into the lab. "Here I thought you were moping and you're talking about leather without me! Trying to make me jealous?"

She slid off the exam table and Angelo strolled straight to her, leaning on a counter with his chin nearly resting on her shoulder.

"It's selfish to try to keep a good thing all to yourself, Skin," she quipped back at him.

"Never said I was anything but." Skin turned to Hank. "Dr Pryde said I'm with you now. Said that you might engineer something to keep me together."

Jenna moved away quietly and walked out of the labs. She took the stairs two at a time and dodged around a knot of older X-Men in the foyer.

"Lawn?"

Jenna turned to Paige, who was jogging up the steps after her. "Sure. Let me grab my book."

"You read like you're making up for lost time," Paige joked.

"I am."

The abrupt honesty took the younger Guthrie off guard.

"Right," she fumbled. "Well, I'll see you out there."

Jenna grabbed her most recent book and her Ray Bans. They had been stollen in a mall heist when the Acolytes were bored and she loved them. No amount of time with the "good guys" would convince her they weren't the best shades in the world.

It wasn't hard to find her little knot on the lawn: just look for the teachers teasing the living landscape. After being knocked off her feet by Krakoa's giggles for the fifth time, she snapped at them to cut it out.

"Someone's grumpy," Jubilee chided.

"Someone is sick of being mined for private information."

 _"_ _You meet with Dr. McCoy?"_

She rolled her eyes. "Grover is worse than everyone else combined."

" _Grover_ is a genius and probably the nicest person here," Paige snapped, narrowing her eyes.

Jenna sighed. "Right. Fine. Dr. McCoy. He's with Angelo now anyway. Please let's talk about something else."

 _"We could always talk about Angelo."_

Jenna glared at Chamber and climbed up the tree they were gathered under. Wedging herself in a forked branch she pointedly opened her book and began to read.

"Oh come on! He's the snarkiest and most cantankerous person you ever met until you come along and then, surprise, he's the embodiment of affection," Paige called up after her. "He follows you like a puppy."

"And he talks about Ava constantly," Jenna replied, giving in and lying on her stomach. "He follows me because I'll let him verbally pine for hours on end."

"Oh, Ava!" Jubliee sighed in an imitation of Angelo. "How red your hair! How short your shorts!"

 _"Now I want to talk about something else,"_ Jono quipped. _"What's the book of the day?"_

"Beloved."

"How's book club going? Enjoy reading The Hunger Games with kids?" Jubilee teased.

"Yeah. Better than what I read growing up."

 _"Which was?"_

"An inordinate amount of Little House on the Prairie."

"Where _did_ you grow up?"

Jenna gave Jubilee a look and she grinned back.

"It never hurts to try. Maybe I can catch you off guard someday and we'll all find out you're just from Chicago or Kansas or somewhere horribly normal."

Jenna cracked a smile and the conversation rolled into classes and administration issues.

"Yes, brilliant suggestion of the day was that we go camping. From Idie of all people. Genesis looked like he was going to throw up. I gave in to the idea of camping in the Bio-dome though it'll have to wait till next quarter at least. Assuming we actually finish the book."

Paige laughed. "You keep Quire in line so they would probably let you. Not like Angelo. Did you know Emma's taken to observing Angelo's Spanish classes?"

 _"Paige here's been worryin' over nothing else."_

"Well my usual class management certainly falls through with the Ice Queen next door! She probably can't fire me but she wouldn't hesitate to bother Logan over it."

"Hey, I'd give anything for the ability to tear my face off and scare kids. Childhood dream, right there," said Jenna.

Jono stared up at Jenna. _"Seriously?"_

Jenna's look softened. "Yes. You're lovely. Who wouldn't want to look like you?" she replied sincerely.

Jono's face curved in a smile. _"I'll blow you out of that tree if you sass me, miss."_

"Wouldn't dare, laser-face."

Jono was on his feet and climbing the tree in seconds, to the great amusement of Jubilee. Everett jogged up and grinned as well as Jenna dove out of the tree and tried to outrun Jono.

"Ten seconds," he said.

"Seven," chimed Paige, shaking his hand.

Paige proved right as Jono blew the ground out from under her in a mere seven seconds. Jenna lay on the ground laughing loudly as Jono feigned severity staring down at her. Then he helped her up and they wandered back over.

"See," Jenna laughed as Jubliee handed her back her book. "I would give a lot for a mutation as boss as that."

* * *

Hank was slightly more prepared for her nearly silent walk and so she was not gratified with a jump scare when she arrived the next morning.

"I was really looking forward to the leather," he remarked with a straight face, after seeing the running clothes she wore.

Jenna stared him down evenly. "Thought it might chafe. So I assume somewhere there's a treadmill?"

"We're heading up and over. The weights room will meet that need."

Jenna followed behind him silently, half watching him mull over a chart he carried. She was struggling to stay on her feet but she also wasn't about to let him know it. She'd run till she passed out before she told him anything.

Hank indicated a treadmill and absently began to pull the back off of a tab and reached toward her to place it. Jenna jerked out of his reach, taken aback. This brought her back to Hank's full attention.

"I'm sorry. I just need to place these so I can monitor your vitals. Neither they nor I will harm you."

"Tell me where they go. I'll do it myself."

Hank wanted to argue with her but it was not an unreasonable request. It drove his curiosity wild though.

"Here," he pointed to a place on his own chest. "I would ask if I might inquire as to why so strong a reaction but I am fairly certain you would prefer not to answer."

"So you ask anyway, just with a different format," Jenna grumbled at him taking the next tab from him. "Some people don't like to be touched. Or at least not by you."

Hank counted down in his head; her meanness was not localized to him, no matter how it seemed.

"You must admit," he replied indicating the fifth and final tab location, "that when combined with a certain set of behaviors it gives a very specific impression."

"That was a lot of words to say nothing at all," she snapped at him. "What do you want?"

"I am here to help you."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Then why are you here now?"

"Because it was my end of things. If I play nice and let people "help" me, they would close off my mind and I get to live a group that isn't involved in terrorism. Seemed good at the time but little did I know I would be plagued with good intentions!"

Hank sighed and deftly hooked the wires to her tabs before she could complain about that too. "Run at whatever speed you like for as long as you can."

Jenna kicked on the treadmill and began to run.

Hank watched her run, as he had said he would. She had good form but was out of shape and she looked exhausted.

"Go ahead and stop," he told her, after about five minutes.

She scowled. "You said run as long as you can. I can run."

"Jenna, stop running before—"

She hit the treadmill with a thud and her body was kicked backward by the band. He scooped her up before it scraped up her face and furiously slammed the button to shut it down.

"Get off me," she groaned as he carried her back to his labs.

"You can either admit you were wrong, thank me for not leaving your sorry self back there, or shut the hell up," he snapped in return.

Jenna decided the last option let her have the most of what she wanted so she said nothing and when he handed her some water and two pills she took them without complaint and watched him as he continued to monitor her.

"Well… you are healthy over all, just worn down. You need to rest." He looked her in the eyes and she shifted her gaze to her hands. "Your healing factor also seems to be something in your blood, though this will not surprise you I'm sure."

Their eyes met again and now he held her gaze. She had completely green eyes he noted. Genetically rare.

"It's not just blood. It's any… fluid. Tears, sweat, spit. All of it." She was surprised as he was that she had volunteered that information. But she was tired of being difficult; it took more effort with someone as dogged as Hank.

Hank's eyes lit up at the new information; _that_ was interesting. "And how would you know—"

But footsteps were thundering down the stairs and she pulled away from him immediately, forcing herself to her feet and hiding the blooming bruise on her forehead with her hair. Jubilee appeared followed closely by Angelo.

"Hey Hank!" she chirped. "Quick question for your patient!" She turned to Jenna. "You need to set the record straight. This bozo is insisting you were a thing with Quicksilver, which would be _insane_."

Jenna grinned back which was enough of an answer for Jubilee.

"Ha!" Angelo gloated. "I would never lie to you. Not about such juicy gossip anyway."

"How?! He's big leagues!" Jubliee's face split into a grin. "How _was_ he?"

"Depends on how you feel about quick men."

The eruption of laughter that followed rubbed Hank the wrong way.

"Good _ness_ ," Jubilee exclaimed. "If it's that easy to catch hot men I need to change sides!"

"Oh please." Hank only realized he had spoken aloud when they all turned to face him.

"Is he always like this?" Jenna's question was directed at Angelo or Jubilee but she stared Hank down as she asked it.

"Nope," Angelo answered. "He's usually so chipper you could choke him."

Jenna cocked her head to the side, winked and blew him an exaggerated kiss. "Don't worry," she cooed. "You'll get your turn."

"I have work to do, if you don't mind," he returned icily.

Angelo and Jubilee made their excuses and left giggling, but Jenna was annoyed that he had still managed to trump her with his storm cloud demeanor.

"Is there anything else or can I go?"

"I see no point in that sort of attitude."

"They're not little kids. Angelo was in a gang and Jubilee was a mall rat. And if you think they're both virgins—"

"There must have been some reason you left the Acolytes. You yourself characterized them as terrorists."

"Maybe it just failed to amuse me. Or maybe, like life on a space station, it just came to be a bit… too… much."

"Get out," he snarled at her, bristling visibly. It alarmed her a bit to see him react so strongly, but it was what she had wanted. She had learned that the way to end a conversation that was digging too deep was to go for the heart; it was a conversation kill switch. Jono had joked that's why they got on well: he didn't have a heart.

"Gladly. Prude," she snapped before storming away.

* * *

"Still hanging in there?" Bobby asked, frosting their beers over later that day as he and Hank lay against the roof of the school.

Hank snapped the caps off, catching himself in time to not shatter the bottles completely.

"Other than the constant thorn in my side, yes."

Hank drained the beer he was holding and reached for a second without a word.

"At any rate," Bobby quickly changed the subject, "how about Angelo? Forge seemed excited."

"Kitty was dead on with the low current theory. This may actually be the closest to normal Angelo will get to be in quite some time."

"I'm sure he'll show his appreciation by being mildly more tolerable."

Hank laughed. "How did we end up with such sulky teachers?"

"The only thing he teaches is Spanish and even then Emma keeps an eye on _what_ Spanish he's teaching."

"And you? What have you picked up in my absence?"

"Algebra…"

"I did love that course listing. Algebra Sucks But You Still Have To Learn It."

Bobby grinned at his friend. "Ice Sculpture as an Extracurricular, but that's no different. Kitty was happy to free up your Science and Philosophy courses."

"Who had them?"

"Science was touch and go for a while but Sean ended up with it. Philosophy was Betsy the last I knew."

"So I have my work cut out for me?" But Hank seemed pleased and Bobby knew he loved a challenge. "Speaking of our Headmistress," Hank continued, "I heard some interesting gossip about the two of you."

Bobby choked on his beer a little and would have blushed if he didn't spend most of his days iced over now.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he answered.

"It's cute, really. Though…" Hank looked him dead in the eyes, "are you certain you want this?"

"And that's what I'd rather not talk about."

Hank watched his friend's profile for a little while before shifting his focus out onto the grounds.

"What happened for those three months after you left SWORD? Since we're asking personal questions," Bobby asked.

"It's simply impossible that Logan did not fill everyone in on this."

"We would all rather hear it from you."

Hank sighed and polished off his third beer. "We broke up after three months. I had _moved_ there for Abigail and then… so I just couldn't come back here. While it is not in keeping with my usual form, I got roaringly drunk somewhere up in Maine and then terrorized the countryside for a while. The shame of losing control of myself that badly... Shockingly, when you have no where to go and only rage to drive you, positive choices are not made with great frequency. Logan got wind of my presence in and in all honesty he hunted me down and quite literally beat sense back into me. I could have eaten his leg for a second time, but he was right. I've never wanted to just be a beast."

"Why did you guys split?"

"I had no purpose up there and she had no time for me. It was futile in every way."

"You guys were on a space station. How could she not have time for you?"

"Apparently, when you have a very goal oriented person who does not include spending time with or communicating with their significant other among their priorities, there is no time to be had."

"I'm really sorry."

"So am I," Hank sighed sincerely. "But I'm home now. This is always an improvement."

"I've got training," Bobby said. "I'm sure no one would complain about you joining."

"Thanks but no," Hank said handing off his bottle. "I'll stick with volleyball till I'm more…settled."

"See you after dinner then!"

Hank looked out over the grounds with a smile. It was Halloween weekend and kids were beginning to appear, ready to load into vans that would take them to suburbs for trick or treating. Older members were loading into cars, ready to hit the city. A familiar voice caught his attention and he watched Jenna jog up to Chamber and Husk. Husk looked like Groot, much to everyone's delight and Chamber looked pretty much the same as always. Jenna was dressed in orange pants and a white tank with some sort of extensions off of her feet and a white, space-like gun in her hands.

"Brilliant!" some boys called to her. She posed with them for a selfie before the boys loaded into the vans.

"What _are_ you?" Husk asked, her voice comical in the giant tree form.

"Chell! You need to spend more time on a computer, dear!" Jenna answered.

Hank couldn't help but smile. That suited her.

"Ready for power ballad karaoke?"

Chamber replied but Hank could not hear what he said.

"Whatever!" Jenna teased. "You owe me at least two Meat Loaf duets, sir!"

Again a reply he could not hear. Jono was obviously laughing at them.

"And what are _you_?" Jenna shot at him in some response to his teasing.

"He's Chamber, of the X-Men. Like the costume?" Paige answered.

The two girls burst into giggles.

"Either your the biggest hipster in the world or you're just pathetic," Jenna teased.

Whatever Chamber said sent both of them into more laughter. Hank left the roof, hoping to start outlining some courses, but the image stayed with him. It was the first time he had seen her laugh.

This was forgotten the next day when he waited over an hour for Jenna to appear. Just when he was about to give up, she stumbled into the room, more than a little disheveled and in pajamas.

"Should I even ask?"

"Not at all."

"If you toned it down a bit, you might find it easier to meet your obligations."

Her eyes snapped to his face. "What does that mean?"

"Your body is worn down; a rowdy life will only further that damage."

"My body, my choice."

"Do you have _any_ concern for your own well being?"

"Oh just piss off," she shot at him.

"Fine."

He pushed past her, leaving her alone in the labs and heading to the training room to prevent the morning from being a complete waste. Unlike Jenna, however, his conscience was plaguing him; he knew she had been out with Gen X and he knew the odds of things going too far south with Paige and Everett around were next to none. Sighing, he knew that the right thing to do would be to apologize, though he was sure it would only bring him more grief.

He located her in the kitchen though she was not alone. She was seated in a stool and Chamber faced her, leaning against the counter she sat eating at, his chin resting in his hand.

"Well, we tried. Thanks for waking me up so I could eat this bowl of cereal bright and early!"

Chamber noticeably laughed.

"Awww!" she teased the black clad mutant. "You have a lovely laugh, Jono. I want to hear that in my head every day as long as I live."

Chamber's reply was not heard by Hank but he watched Chamber squeeze her hand for a moment before Hank quietly walked away.


	2. Prologue: November and December

**November**

"Hey!" Logan took the stairs two at a time, stopping at the top of the stairs. He grabbed Jenna's upper arm, ignoring the look she gave him. After hearing the shouting from and _over_ the cafeteria, Logan decided enough was enough."What the hell was that? What did you say to him?"

Jenna was scowling at the banister of the stairs, bottling up her anger at being stopped in public to be scolded. And why was it always what _she_ said. Why did it not matter that Hank had accused her of having no morals? And what did _he_ know?! Her morals were _spotless_ compared to everyone else she had known till she moved to this blasted mansion.

Logan watched her until he decided she wouldn't give in. While Jenna was not the singular source of conflict (truth be told anyone who was even vaguely like Abigail set Hank on edge just by _existing_ ), Logan was certain she would be the easier of the two to deal with. She had never attacked him for telling her what to do, not yet anyway.

"You are not like this with your team, with Emma, or with me. So I'm asking you again: _what's going on_?"

He didn't expect her to tell him but she did.

"He _hates_ me," she said, barely above a whisper. "No matter what I do, I get a moralizing lecture."

"Hank does not hate you," Logan said, letting go of her arm. "He's short-tempered, but it's got nothing to do with you so long as you stop rubbing salt on his wounds."

She blushed but didn't contradict him.

"Here's what I've heard. I've heard that you're dismissive and mean, and that the reason he pries and lectures is that you won't tell him a single thing, something you did not put Kitty through. So yeah, you've made it really hard on him and he's overreacting, but he's trying to help."

Jenna stared at the banister.

Logan slowly moved into her line of sight and lifted her chin till she was looking him in the eyes. "You can't just hide behind being someone worse than you are. Hank's a rule follower, and that gets old as hell, but it's important to him that he helps those who need help and that he gives people a chance."

Jenna rolled her eyes with a groan. "I know... Just give me a day? I can only deal with so much."

"You and me both," Logan snorted as he walked away.

* * *

Hank was furious. She had gone too far. It was bad enough that she insinuated and mocked _every time_ they talked, but for her to come out and say that Abigail must have left him because he acted like an animal... that was too much. What did she know?! Did she know what it was like to live like this? To deal with the constant judgment directed at his physical form?

" _Dr. McCoy...?_ "

Hank turned snarling to see Jono and an annoyed looking Paige.

Jono had left when he saw Logan leave. No one liked to contend with Hank when he was angry, but Jono could take the risk with little damage to his physical form if Hank wasn't in the listening mood, and he had decided enough was enough.

"What?" Beast snapped, trying to regain his composure.

" _It's not my business and I know it's not (if nothin' else Paige has made it clear that it's not)... but... Jenna's not as bad as you're castin' her._ "

"Perhaps our interactions with her are not the same, Mr. Starsmore," Hank replied, fighting to keep the savagery out of his voice.

Chamber shrugged. " _We're you here when she first got here?_ "

Hank said nothing.

" _Because I'm pretty sure_ _everyone_ _has told you about_ _that_ _. And I'm sorry, doctor, but people can hear the things_ _you_ _say about_ _her_ _. She can hear..._"

Reddening, Hank stared at the floor. Trust Jono to come in and make him feel ashamed.

" _Hank…_ " Beast could feel a shift in the conversation, that it had moved from including everyone in the room to just him and Jono. " _You have t' understand: she's the only person I know who flatters me in any way. Maybe I'm vain, or maybe she's not as bad as people say._ "

Hank had nothing to say to that; he had heard this himself only a week earlier.

The conversation shifted back. " _I'm not trying' to tell you what to do, Dr. McCoy. But I do care what happens t' her._ "

Taking the stairs two at a time and looking more than a little self-conscious, Chamber left the labs. Paige watched him go, her annoyance growing more in his absence.

"Is there something wrong?" Hank asked her, though he didn't really feel up to couple's counseling at the moment.

"I keep telling him to stop protecting her, stop hovering over her all the time, but he _won't_."

"And why would he be doing that? I thought you two were an 'item.'"

"Jono's the reason she's here. He feels responsible for her."

"Now that's news. Do explain."

Husk sighed. "We visited Utopia because we needed Magneto's help shutting down Sentinels. She was there and hung around in the background until Magneto yelled at her. So Jono made contact with her and promised we would get her out if she wanted. She did, so he and Banshee broke her out while Magneto was busy with Sentinels. Magneto came around for her here but Wolverine and Kitty insisted it was everyone's right to decide where they would side."

"Has she ever said why she jumped ship?"

"Not to me. And _he_ won't really tell me what she says. She talked to only him for about a week until Banshee and Emma got sick of it. Then she started talking to Angelo and finally the rest of us."

"They sent Angelo to get her to open up?"

Paige nodded. "They guessed that he was her best match." Paige sighed again. "I'll see you later. Please keep that to yourself? No one in that little tale would appreciate that info being passed around."

Agreeing, Hank watched the younger mutant follow Jono upstairs.

* * *

"Knock knock," Jenna announced. It was after midnight but she couldn't sleep so she had gone looking for Hank. Two birds… She found him in the kitchen.

"Ah. Hello."

Jenna sidled around to a corner and deftly perched on the counter, watching Hank.

"Tea?" he offered.

"A little late for caffeine at your age isn't it?"

He snapped his head toward her but was surprised to see that she was clearly teasing him. Beast allowed his "feathers" to unruffle a bit.

"I'm not here to harass you," she said, trying to sound soothing. "I want to offer a peace treaty of sorts." That was her "grand plan" after mulling it over for the last thirty minutes. She sure as hell wasn't going to apologize and she was pretty sure he wouldn't either.

Climbing up onto the counter opposite her and perching with his mug of tea, Beast watched her, waiting.

"I'll stop going for the throat all the time if you just lay off every once in a while."

Everything in him wanted to argue with her: about how the two things were not at all equivalent, about how if she did just one thing the way she was supposed to he wouldn't have to even get on her, about how she had started all of this to begin with, and on and on. But she was here of her choice offering something.

"I accept your terms," Hank replied. "I suppose we both wear our weaknesses too openly for such heartless attacks."

Jenna was caught off guard by his words. They were such a succinct summary of the problems between the two of them.

"Shake on it?" she offered, feeling like there needed to be some closure other than her just walking away.

Hank set down his mug before leaping gracefully over to the counter she sat on. It brought him much closer to her than he had anticipated though. Jenna found herself pinned between him and the corner cabinets behind her. She looked up into his face (so close) and felt heat sweep through her. It was not the first time she had noticed his intense gaze, as if you were the only person he would ever look at. Hank also met her gaze but then found himself staring at her lips... and then the curve of her neck... He quickly put space between them, trying to hide his embarrassment. He offered her his hand and she took it, giving the firm handshake he had expected.

"Goodnight then," she said, slipping away as simply as when she had arrived.

* * *

"I would like to test both tears and saliva. A mouth swab is easy enough," Hank explained offering a q-tip to Jenna the next time he saw her. Jenna sucked on the q-tip for a moment without question before handing it back to him. "But there's not really a good way to get tears…"

Jenna bit back a beautiful acidic retort about how he seemed to have no problem getting tears out of her. She smirked to herself. And here he didn't think she was trying.

There was a moment of silence and then Jenna commanded, "Hit me."

"What? No!"

"Oh come on! This is your big chance!"

"Believe me, I know. But I cannot possibly just hit you," Hank said, somewhat caught off guard.

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Follow."

She hurried upstairs, spotting Angelo, Ava, and Jubilee down one hallway.

"He wants tears," Jenna said, jerking her head back to indicate Hank. "Hit me."

"Why on earth would someone just—" Ava began, but was interrupted by Jubilee slapping Jenna across the face.

"God in heaven!" Jenna exclaimed.

"That's from all of us," Jubilee teased.

Jenna laughed and turned to a somewhat appalled Hank. "Collect away!"

He shook his head and caught as many tears as he could in a vial. While he worked on this, Angelo was trying to explain to Ava why he was not a monster for laughing at all of this.

"No no no. This is tough love, chica. She can handle this and more."

Jenna flashed him a smile.

"No, I knew this was my kind of girl when I met her, with her cursing and her subsisting entirely on beer and her hands that looked like a crucifixion."

This caught Beast's attention, as well as Ava's, and both their eyes darted to Jenna's hands which closed in a flash.

"Damn your big mouth, Angelo," she hissed at him.

He backpedaled quickly. "You're right. I just thought everyone had noticed."

"They generally don't unless some asshole points it out," she snarled.

"Can't unsay it, Jenna. I'm sorry. Won't happen twice."

"Fine." Jenna turned back to Hank and hissed, "Let me know if you need anything else," before leaving.

Hank took the vial back to his labs, trying to think of a time he had seen her palms and coming up empty. That would explain how she had been used as a healer for…larger quantities than saliva would provide seeing as her arms were free of significant scars. The thought was more than a little sickening.

"Henry."

Hank looked up to see Emma steering Jenna back into the labs.

"I need you to back me up. Jenna is insisting that she cannot train, but she is, by your own diagnosis, perfectly healthy."

"No one said I had to and I do not want to," Jenna growled.

Emma rolled her eyes. "In your physical condition, you would be a burden to any team you were placed on. If you want to keep up with the team, you need to train with them. And let's be honest, between teaching and training, if you aren't training with our team it will be much harder to see them."

Jenna glowered at Emma but she knew this was true. There were people in the mansion she never saw.

"Hank, tell her she must."

Jenna glared up at Hank, and Hank forced himself to make eye contact with her.

"It would be best."

Jenna nodded curtly and left the labs, clearly furious at being ganged up on.

* * *

"You called?"

"I suppose, though as always I would not phrase it thusly."

"Clearly."

"I have results."

Hank watched Jenna's eyes light up in a way he had never seen before. Her striking green eyes stood out more than ever.

"What did you find?"

"A few things. Have a seat?" He had learned to intone questions into everything; she was much more likely to cooperate if she felt she was not being told to do anything. She plopped down on the other swivel chair and leaned toward him eagerly. "For starters, your white blood cell count is abnormally high. And aggressively sympathetic. When combined with other white blood cells from other humans and mutants your white blood cells take on their cause, so to speak." He waited to make eye contact with her and smiled. "You have very noble white blood cells."

"If only they had been put to better use," she mumbled. "Other things?"

"Yes. Your lysozyme enzyme is truly astounding."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Lysozyme breaks down bad cell walls and rebuilds new cells. Too much can lead to kidney failure and other nasty side effects; you have enough to shut down _my_ kidneys but your body has chosen to export it. It is normal in tears and saliva but for you it exists in all your fluids continuously. You literally have it coming out of your pores. It also appears in your blood."

"Well that was anticlimactic," she sighed.

"Possibly, but I find it fascinating. I've never seen anything like it before. It is nothing at all like Joshua's control over biology or Logan's Amblox proteins. You have what we all have but much more so, true evolution at work." He looked up from his notes to find her watching him with a very odd expression.

Jenna had listened to everything he had said and had understood none of it, but in giving him her attention she had seen something new in Hank McCoy. For starters he was clearly brilliant; indexing her mutation was a side project and even then he had completed it in about two months. He probably could have done it in a week if she had been more cooperative. And he was... charming. Not in Angelo's one thousand words a minute sort of way; rather, it was soothing to listen to him talk about something that clearly interested him. She hated to admit it but Logan and Paige had been right all this time.

"You like this don't you?" she queried.

"What's not to like?"

"Anyway…" she drawled, "It's good to know something about what's going on." She looked him in the eyes. "Thank you, Dr. McCoy. I really appreciate this."

Beast smiled and offered one correction. "You can call me Hank."

 **December**

Friday night arrived, the last before winter break, and the faculty decided this was a good time to hit the city for drinks. Gen X was left in charge since they were having a night in playing Rock Band anyway.

Despite Hank's protests, it had been decided for him that a night out was just what he needed. Warren had found a suitable nightclub that did not have a problem with mutant guests, so long as the mutants were famous rather than notorious.

On arriving, Hank was supplied with a couple fingers of whiskey and then promptly left to fend for himself. He watched Logan and Storm dance for a while with great amusement until he noticed a woman had perched herself next to him.

"I'm Mary," she said to him, half shouting over the music.

"I'm —"

"Hank McCoy. I know." She beamed at him and flipped her long hair over one shoulder. "What are you drinking?"

"Lagavulin."

She motioned and Hank was handed another few fingers.

"I really admire your work," Mary gushed, placing a hand delicately on his arm. Hank wasn't sure if it was the whiskey or the familiar and unfamiliar feeling of a woman touching him, but warmth spread through his body.

She plied him with drinks and they talked until they no longer felt like talking, her fingers searching and leading him. When Bobby was sent looking for Hank so they could go home, he found his friend at a corner table, entangled with a woman he was kissing passionately.

"So you coming or do we catch you at home?" Bobby asked, grinning wickedly.

Hank could see Mary wanted him to come with her but his better judgement won out. He made lame excuses and headed out with Bobby.

Saturday broke, cold and clear. Hank woke with a headache and immediately threw up. This was why he didn't drink like that. He was propped up in the shower before a horrifying thought struck him: he was late for training with Gen X and clearly hung over.

When he managed to get himself down to the Danger Room's control room (after passing up breakfast because the smell of food made him sick), Jenna, who was operating the session in his stead, looked up from her phone and smirked at him.

"Well, who had a wild night?"

"I suppose asking for mercy is futile?"

"Asking for mercy?! I haven't had more than one beer since I _moved_ _here_ even though you've hounded me since day one! And this!" She showed him what she was looking at on her phone. It was a very clear picture of him kissing Mary, a hand up the back of her shirt. "This is Quentin Quire level behavior!"

"What? Jealous?" Hank snarled at her. He knew he shouldn't goad her on but it was exactly how she would have responded.

"If I were, apparently that could be remedied for the price of a bottle of Jack."

That stung.

"Forgive me if I don't copy your model behavior and gather the children together to re-live the night."

"What the hell ever! You're such a hypocrite!" she shrilled at him. "I don't care how much you drink or if you screw this woman! But stop pretending I'm the wildest person on campus when you seem to be able to match me drink for drink and lover for lover! I can't stand this upitty act of yours!"

"Forgive me if I see a night of drinking and kissing as different than 'hooking up' with known mutant terrorists."

This sent Jenna completely through the roof. "You are training our team with EMMA FROST! She was _literally_ a prostitute! She had _sex_ with men for _money_! And terrorists? She was the _White Queen_! Maybe you could see this glaring double standard if you pulled that log out of your own eye, you half-wit!"

"Be silent!" Hank roared at her; her yelling made his head feel like it was going to split. But his yelling pushed him too far and he had to snatch up a trash can as he started vomiting again. When his body had emptied itself, he became aware of someone kneeling beside him.

"Go to bed," Jenna ordered. "You can't work like this."

"Nor can I not work."

"Then wait here. And make sure they don't get killed while I'm gone." She handed him a different trashcan and took the other away. He leaned back against the wall and breathed deeply, keeping one eye on the training session. He would have been fine if she hadn't shredded him over this. Her points about Emma were valid though, whether or not there was a real difference in Jenna and Hank's drinking habits or relationships.

Foot steps in the hall and then, "Drink this."

Without opening his eyes he took the glass and drank it off, wincing a little. "That's sour."

"Coconut water. It's trendy so there's some around here usually. Good hangover cure. You should try honey next. I brought some."

"Thought you didn't drink more than one beer?" he asked sincerely.

"As Angelo (and I'm sure everyone else) has _kindly_ pointed out, I came here in a less than sober state and tried to stay that way until forced into a more wholesome lifestyle."

Hank nodded. Jono was right; she knew exactly what everyone said about her, and judging by her tone it did upset her.

"Listen," Jenna said, kneeling beside him as she squeezed honey into a spoon, "you want to kiss hot ladies, fine. Who doesn't? I'd kiss that lady _sober_." Hank looked at Jenna in surprise only to be met with a teasing grin. "But let me be who I was in the past. I can't change that and I won't apologize for it. I won't pretend I'm sorry, not even for the X-Men. Just let me be who I am right now."

Hank took the honey from her; it seemed a more palatable solution than eating even though eating was the obvious cure. And again, she had a point. Who she was right now was more helpful and insightful than he would have ever given her credit for.

"Logan tells me you're a rule follower," Jenna stated, trying to feel out if she could get away with a question.

Hank looked over at her, finishing off the honey. "And…?"

"Why's that so important to you? What does that _give_ you?"

"Rules and law and justice are what separate us from animals. These things make us human."

Jenna resisted the urge to break eye contact. Clearly, separation from animals would be important to an evolutionary biologist who looked like one.

"I congratulate you on your positivity," she said sincerely. "It's admirable." Then she returned to the control panel, leaving him to himself.

Hank managed to haul himself to his labs, collapsing into his desk chair. The words "just let me be who I am right now" had struck a chord. There was so much he had been in the past, so much he was proud of… and so much he was not. And as of late, the failures and missteps seemed to loom over the successes and gains. Some of them were still completely unresolved. He had left soon after Kitty had been rescued from the bullet she had phased through the Earth… left for a woman that had not found him worth her time. He should have stayed, should have helped his friend recover and readjust.

And once he started there, Beast was easily pulled back to the inciting event for all of that. Charles had known Danger was alive, sentient. Had Hank? He had asked himself over and over if he knew, if he could have known, only to blur the memories and confuse the past.

Beast shook his head, as if to erase the thoughts there, and stood up. There were simply not enough hours in the day to get caught in such vicious loops.

* * *

With the definite chill of winter came new health for Angelo and Jenna. Jenna no longer seemed constantly ready to flee and was nearing "picture of health" status. And others had noticed as well. Jono had complimented her on her eyes to the point that Paige had complained. But those she wished would notice, did not. Angelo's low current suit was perfect in all respects. Too perfect, Jenna thought, for with his looks and confidence restored, he and Ava had become very exclusive.

Hank was running tests on Leech's blood work when he heard familiar steps pounding down the stairs to the lab. He searched around in his brain for what he could have done to upset her and came up with nothing, which was mildly terrifying. She turned the corner, looked for him, and then stormed directly to him.

Jenna was bundled up and her pale, sharp face was rosy from the cold. Snow still clung to her hair and boots.

"Angelo Espinosa is the biggest asshole I have ever met!" she roared at Hank.

He sat stalk still, totally taken aback. This from the woman who had repeatedly told him she would never tell him a thing about herself.

"I spent months with him! He talked about Ava CONSTANTLY! And now that he _literally_ gets his shit together? He completely ditches me for her! And it's not like she's so much better! She's just…"

"More classically feminine?" Hank offered, quickly wondering if he had signed his death warrant.

"YES! EXACTLY! She's an idiot!"

"I don't know if I would equate those, but continue."

"He doesn't know her! He just likes her legs and her red hair. But ME?! Forget me! Forget the fact that I actually…" Jenna faltered. No, it was not abnormal for a guy friend to find a lady interest. But she had let Angelo pry her open with his clumsy grey fingers and now he was leaving her all open and naked and alone. And it _hurt_. "Whatever. You don't care so forget this."

Hank made a snap decision and grabbed her arm gently, just enough force to stop her from leaving. He was surprised at how warm her arm was, given that the snow was just melting on her hair. "That's not true."

She pulled her arm away from him but stayed.

"I just… I really thought maybe he would come around. I thought he might realize what was right in front of him. But I'm just… no matter what he says, I'm not his kind of woman."

"Have you spoken with Jonothon or the others about this?"

"Jono's on with Paige for the moment so they're holed up somewhere either mooning over one another or fighting. And as much as I like Everett and Jubilee, they show their age. But you're always prying so you seemed like a good option in the moment."

"I appreciate the thought," Hank said, ignoring the dig. "And I'm sorry. I would help more if I were able."

"I'll live," she grumbled. "It's not really like I have any right to complain next to you or anyone else here."

"That's not the measure to whether something hurts or not."

"No. It's not."

Jenna found herself standing closer to Hank than she had realized; his hand still held her fingertips. He noticed as well and gently curled his fingers around hers. Their eyes met and she gave him a half smile before heels clipped down the hall, alerting them both to Emma's presence. Swiftly, Jenna moved a yard away from Hank.

"I've been looking for you," Emma said to Hank, breezing straight by Jenna.

"You found me," Hank teased. "What can I do you for?"

"You haven't the money, dear."

"Ouch. Not even with my raw charm and good looks?"

"Not hardly. Now listen…"

Jenna left silently, feeling anger bubbling up in her again. They were so natural together and she felt like a baby when she was with them both. She would give anything to speak to anyone like that, like you had such good standing with them that nothing you said could possibly matter. Or to have someone speak to her like she was the only person they wanted to be talking to.

* * *

Jenna had been bullied into taking up running. It had been pointed out that while she did not need to train with anyone she did not choose to ( _for now_ always hanging in the air between her and Emma Frost), she should at least be able to run a mile on a consistent basis. She used the Bio-dome when it was free, which often left her running late at night. But the Bio-Dome was very definitely a warm climate and she would then wander around the outside of the school, in the snow, to cool down.

She was surprised to see the familiar shape of Hank McCoy, outlined in light from the school, skating on bare feet over what was left of the ice skating rink Bobby had made for the students. Before she could over think it too much (a strategy learned from Jubilee), she trudged over to him and called out, "Dr. McCoy!"

Hank turned with surprise; then his expression grew surprisingly pleasant.

"Hank," he corrected.

"Still Jenna," she quipped back, earning a smile.

"You hardly look dressed for the weather."

"Cooling down after running in the Dome. Mission accomplished," she tried to joke, suppressing shivers.

"Here," Hank removed his coat and draped it around her before she could protest. "I have fur, so…"

She smiled like someone unused to doing so, which was very definitely the case with Hank. He was pleased things had progressed positively. There hadn't been a major blowout since his hangover and the bickering had dropped to what seemed to be a normal level for Jenna. He did have a question for her that had been floating around in the back of his mind though.

"A while back, you said you admired my optimism about law and order," Hank said casually. "What did you mean by that?"

"I meant that, in my experience, law and order can be twisted pretty easily into abuse and control."

Hank nodded. "There is certainly precedent for that in much of history. I suppose I force optimism on myself out of necessity. We have to find hope somewhere and I believe in music, art, literature, and reason."

Surprisingly, Hank saw Jenna smile broadly. "And there we can agree." Their eyes met and she looked away, up at the stars where his gaze had been. "So we know why I'm here... what brings you out here, Plato?"

He smiled. "Taking the opportunity to reflect, I suppose."

"Reflecting on?" she wheedled, wrapping herself in his massive coat.

Hank watched her for a moment, thinking. She did not often ask after his goings ons so he wanted to give a real answer, but it would take far too long to explain all the extents of his worries. He had ended up back where he had been after his hangover: Kitty, Abigail, and Danger. And Danger had never been found, never been heard from after all of that; it was ominous to say the least.

"Ours have not been easy lives, have they?" Beast finally asked.

"Are you asking or is this rhetorical?"

"Asking I suppose."

Jenna stared off into space for a moment. "No. I've never had the luxury of a fairy tale life."

Hank nodded.

"No," she continued. "I take that back. I have had a very fairy tale life. In the Grimm sense."

Hank snorted and nodded. "Yes. That I can relate to."

He saw her eyes narrow and then saw a look of fear take over her features.

"Jenna?"

He started to turn and heard her running away. Something connected with his head and he dropped into the snow like a broken statue. As he struggled for consciousness, he watched a familiar form land in front of him and slam her metallic arm into Jenna's back. There was a crack and she fell as well.

"Danger…" he whispered, trying to call for help and to give the identity of their attacker.

Then all went black.


	3. Chapter 1: Red Riding Hood

**Author's Note:** I decided to change the rating on this from T to M to be safe. It's not going to be graphically lemony or graphically violent, but things come and go and there are certainly adult conversations ahead. Readers beware!

* * *

 **IN DANGER**

 **Ch 1: Red Riding Hood**

Jenna awoke with a cramping ache across her back that made her stretch out swiftly, hoping to relieve the pain. The last thing she could remember… The feeling of stretching her mind back into darkness and foggy void filled her with a panicky sick feeling that was all too familiar. But this wasn't one of _those_ times. She knew she had been running and then had walked outside. She had seen Hank and they had talked and then… dark shapes and metal hands.

The memory of being in snow with Hank brought two pressing questions to mind: why was there no longer any snow and what had happened to him?

Trying to sit as straight as possible she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her vision swam and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Somewhere to her right she heard male groaning. Desperately, she hoped it was Angelo or Jono, but when she looked she knew it was neither. Hank's blue fur and hulking form was unmistakable.

He tried to sit up and fell backward almost immediately. Jenna crawled over to him, her vision collecting itself slowly. There was a bleeding gash on the back of Beast's head and it made her stomach roll to look at it. She moved his head into her lap and he growled in displeasure at the pain.

"You wanted to see me work. So shut up and see it," Jenna rasped at him, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded. Then she spit into the cut. She worked methodically, focusing on where it seemed deepest and probing the wound to see how it was closing. It took some doing but eventually she had closed the wound completely, though she was too thirsty to completely heal it. Hank had shut up when he felt the pain lifting and now felt the back of his head. There was a large scar but it would heal further and his hair would cover it.

Several things were flying through his brain at lightning speed. For starters, Jenna had clearly done this before. She knew how to treat wounds with an almost military precision. For someone who sulked and stared, this was astonishing skill. Secondly, he knew he had been concussed. Danger had knocked him out with brutal force to bring them here (wherever _here_ was). And as Jenna had spit into the wound, he had felt not only his head healing but the concussion lifting as well. He wished with all his might that he was back at the labs. If she could heal _mental states_ as well… what potential!

"My mind is _clear_. Did you know you could do that?"

Jenna wanted to shut down, but she needed him to tell her what was going on and couldn't afford to antagonize him. "Yeah."

Beast stared, for once speechless.

"Stop looking at me like that and tell me what's wrong with my back," Jenna snapped at him. She turned and pulled up the back of her running shirt before he could answer her.

"Whatever hit me in the head took a swipe at your back it looks like. No cuts, but bruises like the midnight sky from shoulder to kidneys. Given your healing, it was worse at the time. You'll need maybe an hour to be back to normal." He did not tell her that the force may have actually broken her back at the time since it clearly was not broken now and that may only scare her. He also kept the identity of their attacker to himself. When he knew more, then he could fill her in all at once.

Jenna had managed to haul herself to her feet, scrabbling up a nearby tree for support, and began to limp off in whatever direction happened to be directly in front of her. Hank followed for a complete lack of anything else to do. There was no reason that he should stick close to her, but it was instinct after years of being an X-Man. She was here because of him and he knew full well exactly how capable of defending herself she was not.

"Where are we?" she asked, noticing birch trees mixed in with oaks and what looked like cedars.

"I have no idea," Hank replied honestly. "I'm not inclined to think we are in a natural environment."

"And what non-natural environment could we be in?"

"I have a few ideas," he answered vaguely. "Are you also starving?"

"Yes."

Jenna turned to ask him if he thought that they could eat anything when she found she had walked into thin air. Despite herself, she yelled in surprise. Before Hank could react she was gone. He bounded over the ledge, diving gracefully and using his weight to propel him toward her. But it was a relatively short fall and he caught a branch, swinging upward in time to avoid a blackberry patch. Jenna had already rolled through it and lay a few feet away, bellowing obscenities. She was scratched up and he knew that it must have hurt horribly with her back in its current state.

Hank dropped to the ground beside her as she was literally licking her wounds. She scowled at him and he took a look at the blackberry patch.

"I believe you may have remedied some of our nutrition conundrum."

She continued to scowl and Hank shrugged, picking berries and popping them into his mouth. Jenna watched him for a few minutes, healing and watching to see if he was going to fall over dead or not. When he didn't she joined him eagerly, trying to hide how desperate she was for food.

"Assuming that we're in the same time zone," Hank commented mildly, forcing himself to not overeat on berries and make himself sick, "it would have been about twelve hours since we've eaten last."

"We need more than this," Jenna said.

"You're telling me."

Jenna looked at him. It was all well and good that he was chatting away like nothing was wrong but she wanted to figure out where here was and then get out as fast as possible. All the open space did not ease her feeling that they were trapped.

They had eaten all the berries in easy reach and both wistfully tore themselves away from the berry bush.

"I wish these would keep better…" Jenna said regretfully. "we would have been able to take some with us."

"How far do you think you can walk?" Hank asked.

Jenna's eyes flashed and he immediately regretted asking her.

"As far as you can," she snapped.

"Of course," he replied mildly. "Come on. We can look for water and test one of my theories."

They walked for some time, Jenna's back improving as they went and both occupied with their own thoughts.

Jenna could not grasp where they were or why. She assumed this had happened because of something connected to either herself or Hank but it seemed impossible that it would be anything regarding _both_ of them. Those she had fallen out of favor with had more than enough ability to ruin her life and make her miserable, but only within the context of her life as it had been before. She had left them behind when she had joined Magneto and they could not possibly know or care where she was. So this had something to do with Hank, which made significantly more sense since he was an X-Man.

Hank had some idea of where they could be but they needed more evidence. They were not in any natural environment on Earth. These trees could not grow together in nature and the terrain made no sense at all. There were only a few created environments that he knew of that were this encompassing.

"I think were in what is intended to be a European environment," he observed aloud to Jenna.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"The trees for one. Cedar that is exclusively East European, northern birch, and northern Oak. The plant life as well. Look…" Hank pointed out across a clearing that had suddenly opened up in front of them. "Heather," he said simply.

"But what's the point?" Jenna exclaimed, her frustration finally boiling over. "What is going on?!"

Hank had a sickish feeling building deep in his gut as he lead them out into the heather.

"There are only a few situations I can think of, though none lead to a definite conclusion. One being that this is some sort of Bio-dome akin to the school's. Though I will admit, I have no leadings as to why this would be the case."

Hank met her eyes finally and saw a helpless fury that he now understood had fueled so much of her anger over the short time he had known her. "I'm sorry."

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

"I'm afraid you are here on my account. Unless there is something you are holding back that would shed light here?"

"I can sincerely say this has _nothing_ to do with me," Jenna scoffed.

"I am not sure why we are here. I sincerely hope that we learn we are simply being held captive as we have not been attacked yet, though it is possible I am being optimistic."

Jenna opened her mouth to give a cutting remark about his brand of optimism, then shut it and began to shove through the heather again. Suddenly, the ground beneath her opened and she vanished.

Beast dove on the spot, digging furiously and shouting her name. There was a clang after he had dug a few feet into the ground. He brushed the soil away and felt the blood leaving his head in a cold fear. He knew this technology like the back of his clawed hand.

"Hank!"

He jumped up and spotted Jenna at a distance, though now inexplicably in a red Superman-like cape with a hood. Something brushed his foot and he pulled a long knife out of the ground. Then all hell broke loose.

From Jenna's perspective, a good distance away, she had been spat out of the ground after being wrapped and spun by mechanical hands. She was dressed somewhat differently, and found a knife was strapped to her hand. Hank was bent examining something and she called to him. Then he picked up something and all around the both of them, girls in capes exactly like Jenna's rose from the ground like a bad zombie movie. Each clutched a long knife and their hoods obscured their faces. Then they attacked.

Hank heard her scream when the nightmare figures began to run and he tried to rush for Jenna, but each of these little women were armed in the same manner as himself. His training was to disarm, to wound and not kill, but he soon found it was an impossible task: their knives were extensions of their wrists, like Wolverine's adamantium claws. The first he killed accidentally, swiping across her throat in an attempt to throw off one that was making trying to drive her knife in his spine. But instead of a gush of blood, the girl crumbled to dust and scattered into the trampled heather around him. He looked around to tell Jenna but he could not identify her; she looked exactly like all the others. The distraction cost him a stab in the side and he roared in pain and frustration.

Jenna had put together that these were not real girls when she kicked one in the back and she snapped in half before melting into dust. Not that this stopped their knives from dealing real damage. Jenna was quickly feeling her lack of fitness and knew she needed to find her way to Hank or she would fall from sheer exhaustion. She slashed viciously across two girls that had pressed her back to a tree and ran through their dust-dissolving bodies toward Beast. Hank threw one girl into her and she felt her back hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. Jenna gasped and pushed herself back up, stumbling toward him. She grabbed his forearm and then froze as he drove his knife into her belly.

Hank watched her eyes expand in true shock before she yanked his knife out of her own abdomen. Blood began to fountain out of her, proving beyond a doubt that she was not like these other cloaked figures. He caught her in his arms, shocked at what he had done, what he had been tricked into doing. A girl slashed at his arm and Hank crushed her in a pounding blow from his other fist. This was sick and cruel and he would not just allow this room to toy with him in this way. He began to bound through the heather and tore into the trees nearby. Hank wanted to get far away and to find water. He could feel Jenna's blood healing his arm and the lower half of his body as it coursed over him sickeningly.

Eventually he found a lily pond. They had not been pursued, which he had expected, and he tried to catch his breath as he lay Jenna on the damp shore. She was a ghostly white and he was so slippery with blood that he had a hard time placing her gently on the ground. In a rush he waded into the pond, rubbing water over his arms and chest, and splashed back over to her.

"Jenna," he said, lightly tapping her face to wake her.

Her eyes opened though her pupils were so enormous there was no way she could see him.

"Jenna, I need to look at your wound. Can I move your clothes?"

"I'm dying," she rasped, shredding the grass up in fistfuls and writhing in pain.

"No. You won't die. I need to know-"

She nodded vigorously but the moment he made contact with her body she was out again. He peeled back her shirt and was able to inspect the top of the cut. Gently and awkwardly, he rolled back the waist of her leggings. This gave him access to the full length of the stab wound. She seemed to be healing from the inside out, patching major organs like her intestines first. This meant that she continued to bleed despite the healing her body was doing. It was an amazing act of biology to watch, but it struck him like lightning just how horrifying this mutation was when used for others. Only by significant self-harm could she heal anyone on this level.

Hank gently wiped away blood and his eyes were drawn to two physical features on her stomach and hips: a horizontal scar below where he had stabbed her and vertical stretch marks on either side of her navel. He shoved away what he was immediately able to surmise from these and applied pressure on either side of the wound, holding it closed and staunching the blood as best as he could.

* * *

When Jenna awoke, she noticed first that it was dark and then that there was a fire nearby. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and glanced at the blanket covering her. It was that horrible red cape.

Hank rushed to her and caught it before she threw it in the fire.

"It's our only covering. I'm sorry. How do you feel?"

"You _stabbed_ me in the stomach. How do you _think_ I feel?!"

Hank ran his hands over his face and through his hair, looking exceptionally weary. "Terrible, I imagine. And I know better than most that being sorry will not ease your pains. Are you hungry?"

She wanted to scream at him and throw things but he had taken some of the fight out of her with his obvious remorse. She nodded and moved gingerly to a rock she could lean against. Handing her a piece of bark with cooked fish on it, Hank observed her closely. She was a normal color now and seemed to have knitted together properly. It seemed that while injuries were healed quickly, pain and other results of injury were far more long lasting.

As she ate, Jenna tried to recall what had happened. Her clothes were crusted in blood, so it was clear he had not gotten them off of her but she distinctly remembered him talking to her about something.

"What did you ask me?" she questioned through a mouthful of fish.

"If I could move your clothing to look at your wound. It seemed… more appropriate."

She met his eyes and Hank was surprised to see a new, much softer expression flooding across her face. But it was soon drained out as the usual weary one regained it's place. Jenna had finished eating and gingerly stood up. She pulled up her shirt to reveal a vertical scar between her hips and below her navel.

"Son of a bitch," she murmured, rolling the band in her running pants down to the bottom of the scar.

"If I had known it was you, of course I never —"

"You really don't need to," Jenna cut him off. "If I could think of a good way to blame you, I'd have done it. You're not the first. Here, look." She pulled up the back of her shirt to reveal a scar on her lower back. "Gambit was throwing knives and I got up and Pyro startled him."

Hank grinned and rolled up a pant leg, pointing to a huge gash on his shin. "Bobby, of course. Knocked me out and dropped me our first year in the X-Men."

Jenna smiled slightly. "Well as cute as this is, my clothes are still stiff with my own blood so I'm going to get on that."

"Would you like…" Hank started to ask but trailed off as Jenna kicked off her shoes and wandered into the pond fully clothed. But he turned quickly away as she pulled her shirt over her head. As she said, they were stuck together and there was no need for this to be more awkward than it was.

Jenna watched Beast writing something in the soft earth as she tried to wash blood out of her hair. She swam around a little until she decided he had had enough time to mull over whatever it was.

"Dr —" she caught herself. "Hank? Can you throw the cape this direction?"

With perfect accuracy, the cape landed in front of her on the shore. Scooping her clothes out of the water she wrapped the cloak around her and shook her hair out. She padded over to what had been written out in the dirt but none of it meant anything to her.

"What have you decided?" she asked, laying her clothes out on other rocks by the fire and making sure to keep the cloak closed.

"We're in a Danger Room."

Hank watched her freeze with her back to him. He could almost feel her heart stop. She turned to face him, her eyes wide.

"How? I thought… yours went rogue."

"She did. And she has built this one and trapped us in it. Though it seems to be crossed with our Bio-dome tech as well."

"Why?"

"I believe," Hank said, polishing his glasses as an excuse to break eye contact, "that she finds me responsible and wishes to punish me in some way. I am the only other person after Charles who could have known that she was sentient, that she was trapped. And maybe I did know or had suspected it. It is hard to say and I have tried very hard to recall."

Hank braced himself and Jenna did not disappoint. He had already stowed the knife away for his own safety. Her fist hit his cheekbone hard enough to hurt mightily. Jenna shrieked in pain and fury.

"YOU!" she roared. "I am trapped here in a _death machine_ because of YOU! I am _once again_ a casualty to someone else's fucked up life!" She stormed away into the trees, holding the cape closed as best as she could with the hand she had not hurt.

Hank's face hurt but that was better than he had expected. And maybe he deserved worse. She was right; this was not her fault. She had only decided to be nice (for once) and come talk to him after her run. If she had not…

Jenna fell against a tree after she was sufficiently far away and began to cry. If she hadn't stopped to talk to him maybe she would be at the school right now! With Jono and Angelo and Jubliee and everyone else. Why had she stopped? Why hadn't she just ignored that hulking blue jackass?

* * *

The next morning, after a sleepless night, Hank was preparing to search for her when Jenna clambered out of the surrounding woods. She had not slept by all appearances and seemed more furious and unreachable than even when he had first met her.

"Why Red Riding Hood?" she clipped quietly, reaching for her clothes and starting to dress behind him.

So she had come to the same conclusion, Hank thought. He could not think of any other archetypal red capes that involved young women. It also explained why they beelined for him (other than the murderous computer telling them to of course).

"I'm not sure. Obviously, it is too soon to reach any conclusions about the environment or circumstances."

" _Obviously_ ," she mimicked. "Give me the knife."

Hank hesitated.

Jenna looked like she would like to light him on fire. "I have no way to defend myself. I can't fight, I can barely run, and I have no useful powers. _Give me the knife_."

Hank handed it to her reluctantly. She used it to cut a strip of fabric off of the bottom of the cape, wrapping the blade and tying it to her hips and hooking around one thigh in a sort of sheath and belt.

"What is the plan?" Jenna asked, not able to look at him. She had gone completely numb internally. As with all previous experiences in her life, she had no idea how to handle any of this. But she could not bring herself to admit that to him.

"We have water here. Alternately, we don't know anything about our surroundings."

"Or if we're being watched and controlled. Or whether this is a program versus artificial intelligence."

Hank nodded and said nothing.

Jenna desperately wanted him to make a decision, to tell her what to do, but she also hated everything about him right now.

"Well, _genius_?"

"We will follow the water then. We can use the cape to gather provisions and such."

She tossed it to him and eyed him as he tied it into a makeshift backpack. She had gotten out of this better than he had. She was in running gear while he was in pants, and his usual array of straps and gear; somehow he had even managed to hold on to the goggles he usually sported on top of his head. He looked like the survivor of a plane crash in a movie. He tied his pince-nez to the backpack and started away from the pond, keeping the little stream on his left.

Hours sank away from them as they followed the water. Hank managed to catch fish again and Jenna discovered wild onions. Neither spoke and night came. Hank noticed that though the temperature was significantly different, Jenna seemed unfazed, staring into the fire with silent determination.

"I'll get water," he murmured.

"Whatever," she said barely audibly.

A howl started some distance away and echoed through the trees and rocks to them. Jenna was beside Hank in moments. Reflexively, his hand held her shoulder, muscle memory from years with Jean and Storm and Kitty. The sound passed away. Jenna seemed to have been holding her breath and let it out in one whoosh. She also noticed the physical touch and jerked away from him.

"Find some other helpless princess to coddle," she hissed at him. "I'm sure they're just laying about here."

"Then you'll have to find someone else to run to," he snarled back at her. He felt some satisfaction as her face flushed deep red and she stormed over to the fire. He got the water (carried in bark she had woven together with surprising deftness) and returned to find her sleeping (or pretending to).

Several days passed this way. It was truly exhausting for both of them. Hank needed a sounding board and it drained him to have to hold everything in all of the time. Jenna constantly felt as though she were five minutes away from laying down and refusing to move until she starved to death.

The tipping point came when Hank was trying to see how far the room extended (or had been made to appear it extended). Jenna was not at all sure that the stand of birch trees was the best place to conduct this "research" but she did not interfere. Hank would have gladly pointed out that she was completely wrong: it was not his size that did him in, but the fact he was now eating half as much each day as he was used to.

He woke up on the ground with Jenna holding her palm to the side of his head, over his ear. He could feel slippery warmth between her palm and his head.

"No," he groaned. "I'll heal. Save it."

Jenna's eyes were enormous and he should have recognized this sign of concern.

"But … you landed on your head."

"I will be fine," he said, trying to wave it off.

Jenna did not know how to express the way his head had been concave where he had landed. She did not want to identify how familiar it was to drive a knife into her palm and feel someone's skull re-form beneath her hand. And she could not delve into how near to tears this had brought her, when she was certain he would be dead.

They continued walking until late afternoon made it clear that Hank could not keep going. His shoulders were killing him and his head felt ready to split. The wound had not even closed yet. He sunk to the ground beneath a tree and Jenna sat some distance away, staring intently at him.

"Jenna…"

She walked silently over to him and knelt. Without a word she pulled the knife out and opened her palm. As Skin had announced, she looked like she had been crucified: deep scars of repeated injury bore into the center of her palm. She drove the knife into her hand without a flinch and held it to his head again. In minutes, the pain lifted.

"I can't do anything more unless you've got other cuts I'm not seeing. Or you drink blood."

Hank shuddered at the thought and she watched her palm heal shut absently, still kneeling beside him.

"We cannot keep this up," he said gently, looking into her pale face. She did not respond or look up but he could see her pulse pick up in her neck. "If we're trapped here together, we should take advantage of that interdependency. We both have weaknesses."

"I'm not the one who fainted in a tree and cracked my skull," she snapped.

"Stars and garters!" Hank shouted in spite of himself. "I am trying to find a middle ground! Every time a twig snaps you run to my side! Just admit you need help, Jenna!"

She stared even more intently at the ground.

"Continue to blame me." Jenna head jerked up and she stared daggers at Hank, but he shut down her protests. "I am being completely serious. I am the reason we find ourselves here. However, it seems pointless to need my protection, heal my wounds, and refuse to speak to me. I am simply trying to open things up for dialogue."

There was another long pause and then Jenna mumbled something.

"Come again?"

"I said," she announced, looking him in the eyes, "I want you to teach me how to defend myself. I don't want to die here."

"Gladly," Hank said.

* * *

He was true to his word and while she had never actually committed to anything, Jenna spoke to him now and suppressed her rage when he was trying to teach her. This did not extend to her swearing tirades when she was bathing within earshot, but they began to grow on him. She could curse anything with a fluid grace reserved for those for whom it was a first language.

After two weeks of getting her butt kicked in "training" and occasionally weighing in with her own survival knowledge, Jenna felt they should find some way to keep track of the time they were there.

"You seem to think we will be here for a while," Hank observed at this comment.

"I know _you_ do."

"Oh?"

"You're reserving everything 'just in case.' You've been scribbling better shelters in the dirt. I'm not a moron."

"Indeed you are not."

"What do you think we should measure in? Days seems too small. Weeks?"

"Let's hope. I shudder to think what measuring in months could mean."

"People are looking for you, right?" Jenna asked, unsheathing the knife absently.

"People are looking for _us_. Yes. And they will find us. It is just a matter of surviving until they do."

Jenna dug the tip into her left forearm twice, near the elbow.

"What—?" Hank began.

"Two weeks. Won't lose it."


	4. Chapter 2: Beanstalk

**Chapter 2: Beanstalk**

It was two more weeks before the next major attack came. The weather had been wet and miserable since they had begun marking the time they were here, with steady downpours, flash floods, and mudslides. They had abandoned their pond after half a hill dislodged and transformed everything into muddy wasteland. They followed the river that grew from it, trudging through the rain until they collapsed in exhaustion. All of this seemed to be pushing them in one direction, herding them like sheep.

Jenna sat with her head on her knees, her hair dripping and clinging to her scalp and face, watching Hank as he built a fire. They had found an outcropping of rock to hide in by a pebbly beach. The flooding had made yet another immediate need painfully clear to Jenna. Her gaze drifted to the rushing water of the river, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Could you teach me how to swim?" she asked very quietly.

Hank sat back as the little fire finally gave in to his tenderness and began to burn more willingly. He bit back the immediate response which was to ask "How could you not know how to swim?" Questions like that annoyed her and she would simply refuse to speak to him anymore. Instead he went with, "Didn't grow up around water?"

Jenna snorted. "Hardly. Well?"

"With pleasure. We ought to wait for the river to lower though. Wouldn't want to lose you."

She watched him out of the corners of her gaze and when she saw he was kidding about losing her she smiled.

"Might I pry a bit while we wait for the rain to stop? Seeing as this is all we ever do now."

Jenna shrugged. "Why not? What else is there to do?"

A rather suggestive option flitted into the back of Hank's mind but he brushed it away with the same annoyance one would give a mosquito.

"What is your 'mutant name'?"

Jenna considered him for a while. This was a rabbit hole and she knew it.

"Caladrius," she finally answered.

"That is far too interesting a choice to leave unexplained," Hank wheedled, sitting back beside her and watching the fire grow.

She shrugged. "It's a big snowy bird and it heals people."

"But if I remember correctly," Hank picked up, "it heals by taking sickness and pain on itself."

Their eyes met and she looked away, blushing. "It's not that big of a deal."

Hank gently took her hands in his own, turning them palms up. "This," he gently ran his thumbs over the scars in her palms, "is _not_ nothing. This is sacrifice."

Jenna held his gaze, allowing him to keep her hands in his. "Losing some blood here and there is not the greatest thing I've lost," she murmured.

The question _what is?_ hung between them almost tangibly but Hank did not ask it. Instead he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"I know, and I'm sorry."

* * *

After a few days the rain had finally dried up and they waded out into a calmer part of the river. Hank really had no idea how to teach something as natural to him as swimming but he made his best effort. Once again, there was a lot more physical contact than Jenna was really comfortable with but she kept her mouth shut. Hank forced himself to focus on swimming but it was hard when she was so bad at it; she needed someone to hold her and support her while she worked on the motions and it was distracting to have her so close to him. Not that long ago, she would have ripped his arms off for even brushing her and now she was floundering around as he held her.

"Is there really no way that you can move your arms and legs _at the same time_?" Hank finally shouted, after being splashed in the face more thoroughly than usual.

"Whatever," she snapped back. "Forget this shit. I'm done."

Something flipped in Beast's brain and he reacted without thinking. He had been kicked and splashed and glowered at enough that he was not willing to _not_ get her to swim. Hank lifted her over his head in one hand and held her there as she shouted curses at him and thrashed around, trying to break free.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she finally exploded.

"You will learn how to swim if it kills me!" he raged back. "Now shut up and coordinate your goddamn movements!"

He lowered her back into the water and in an hour she was able to do a decent free style stroke and a rough backstroke. Jenna would not win any swimming awards, but she would be able to swim her way out of water like this.

They drug themselves out of the river far later in the afternoon than either of them was happy about and Hank waited for her to tear him to shreds. But she didn't. Knowing better than to comment on this, Hank began to forage for food.

* * *

They agreed that camping by the river was the best solution for the moment. It gave them fresh water, fish, and transport if needed. Jenna regularly practiced swimming, with Hank nearby to help. While neither could really admit this, both enjoyed this arrangement. They were very lonely, stuck here with only one another for company, and this was some semblance of companionship.

Hank had found an overhanging rock that was perfect for elaborate dives, which he aimed so close to Jenna that she was forced to swim away from him. He would surface, grinning as she splashed him or threw things at him.

"How can you dive like that?" she asked as they rested on their pebbly beach one evening.

Hank considered. "I suppose because I learned I was very good at physical achievements and diving is a particularly difficult physical achievement."

"And what do these many achievements entail?"

Feeling uncomfortable at first, Hank began to elaborate on his physical strengths. But she did not mock him or goad him so he became more comfortable with the conversation.

"How about yourself?" Hank asked after a stretch of silence, standing and offering her a hand. They needed to tend their fire for the evening.

"None whatsoever."

"That can't possibly be true."

Jenna looked very uncomfortable and he regretted pushing her on it. "I can't run, lift, fight, or anything. I just can't. People don't put healers on the front lines. And I've always been a healer."

"Fine then. You must have talents you are proud of. What are they?"

"I'm well-read and I can hold liquor like you wouldn't believe." She shrugged, but Hank could tell she was proud of these things.

"What do you read?"

"Sci-fi. Classics. Young adult novels at the school."

Hank let the conversation slide off but grinned openly. Finally, they were hitting on some common ground. As he watched her, she pulled her hair back in a tight bun, scowling like she did every time she pulled her hair back.

"Question…" Hank pried. When she didn't shoot him down he continued: "Is your hair causing you distress?"

"Not directly. I want it short," she mumbled.

"Not a fan of long hair?"

"You get sick of it after years of stupid braids and shit," she said, throwing a rock at a tree nearby with ever improving force and aim.

"Could you do me a favor?"

Jenna looked at him questioningly. This was a rare occasion indeed.

Hank motioned at his hair, "Could you teach me how to control this horrible mess?" He had been wearing his hair longer for several years now, but it now passed his jaw and was a constant nest of tangles.

Jenna shrugged. She pulled her hair back down and tried to show him by mirroring what he needed to do for a bun, but eventually got so fed up with him that she jumped up and started to pull his hair back herself.

"Like this! How can you have no sense of gathering all your hair up?"

Hank had to admit he didn't hear her scolding; he was enormously distracted. He had forgotten how much he loved the feeling of someone rubbing his scalp. As she combed her fingers through his hair he leaned back into her hands like a cat. Jenna noticed and began to scratch his scalp gently, moving in circles with a wicked grin.

"You're just a huge kitty, aren't you?" she teased.

"Say whatever you like," Hank murmured. "Just don't stop."

Jenna smiled and gathered up his hair, wrapping it into a tight bun. "Well, I'll keep that in mind."

She wandered off along the shoreline and Hank followed her with his eyes, spacing out. They had now been in this Danger Room for two and a half months; two and a half months was a very long time. If no one had found them already, they needed to face the very real idea of moving beyond survival and into how to _live_ like this. But he had no idea how to break this news to her.

Jenna's stomach flipped over a few times as she walked away. Part of her said that while this was all very "Hallmark channel," there was no point in letting him in if they were just going to return to "life as usual" once they were rescued, though that seemed unlikely in the near future. But his smile made her cold heart melt just a tiny bit and she had to admit it made her happy to not have to snap and hiss for the first time in many years.

* * *

Now their river had mysteriously dried up and there was very little food to be found. They had moved inland and the terrain had become very thick and hard to traverse. While both Hank and Jenna were leaner and stronger than they had been, the constant tramping through thick brush was still exhausting.

Jenna sat down on a boulder, panting. She pushed hair out of her face and then pulled it down to rebraid it. Hank dropped heavily against the bolder, sitting on the ground and leaning back against it. He could not believe how worn down he was. Absently, Jenna's hand dropped to scratch his scalp. Watching his face relax she smiled to herself. They were both developing more grey hair: Hank in localized streaks at his temples and Jenna in threads of silver. This betrayed the stress they were both holding in.

"Bless you," Hank murmured after she stopped.

She took one look at him and burst out laughing.

"What?" he asked, pretending to be offended.

"We just look so absurd. Your poor, hipster man-bun is looking the worse for wear."

He smiled and wound it back tightly, retying it. "That's a fair description. Can't look worse than my early 2000's driver's license."

"I bet that was a fun DMV visit," Jenna remarked, imagining Hank visiting his local branch in a suit and covered in blue fur.

"My hair had gotten a bit too long and my ex decided that her convertible was the way to go."

Jenna grinned and checked on the state of her running shoes; they were not meant to endure weeks of hiking and rough terrain.

"Well…?" Beast wheedled.

Jenna looked up, clearly perplexed. "What?"

"Everyone has a terrible ID story."

"Oh. No. Sorry. Not me."

He would not have believed her if she hadn't been blushing.

"No driver's license?"

She deepened and shook her head.

"Passport? Legal ID?"

"I said no," she snapped.

"You've never left the US?"

Jenna was embarrassed and furious. She jumped off of the boulder and stalked away, continuing in the direction they had been going.

Hank sat there for a minute, surprised. He knew she preferred to be secretive, but this was a level of being "off the grid" that was very uncommon. He lept into a tree and quickly caught up to her.

"Would you like to?" he asked.

"What?"

"Leave the US?"

"Not all of us can afford to just jet about with the X-men!" she snapped. "I don't drive because I don't need to and I don't travel because I've been living with Magneto and —!" She cut herself off and looked like she was going to punch him again, but she didn't. "Just leave me alone!" she finally finished.

Hank hung behind her after that. He had pushed it too far. If she came out with something she didn't want to tell him because she was mad at him, she would never forgive him.

That night Hank noticed the weather was beginning to chill, though Jenna seemed unfazed and simply stared into the fire.

"I do not mean to press you. It is hard to know what assumptions to make," Hank murmured.

"I know," she answered automatically. "I… Nevermind."

"No. Please, continue."

"I want things to get better here," she motioned to the two of them. "Since we're not going anywhere. But I can't just… Jono doesn't even know this stuff."

Hank nodded, "I'll keep asking and you keep telling me to shut it when I ask for too much. Sound fair?"

Jenna nodded. "I think I know what's coming," she announced out of nowhere.

"Oh?"

"Notice the vines are getting thicker and more independent of the trees?"

Hank hadn't given it much thought until she pointed it out, but now that she had…

"Ah. Well. This should be interesting then."

* * *

They had walked for three more days and were both ready to kill the other one or anything that happened to pass by them. The last fresh water they had found had been a day ago and they had no food at all, but it was clear where they were being led; in front of them, reaching away into the sky, was an enormous beanstalk.

Jenna and Hank stood at the bottom looking up into the sky. There was clearly something up there...

"Well… Climb on," Beast groaned.

Hank barely made it to the top of the beanstalk. Having to carry their combined weight was almost more than he could physically bear, but Jenna would not stop shaking him as he lay on the huge paving stones that began at the top of the beanstalk.

"Hank! Hank! Smell that!"

Hank lifted his head and breathed in deeply. Indeed, there was a powerful aroma of food. Jenna was dragging him back to his feet and he felt some new energy rising in him.

They snuck through a space in the wooden front door and found themselves staring at a huge feast: huge in every sense of the word as the food was clearly sized for giants.

"My God…" Jenna whispered. "Hank… I don't think I can climb that table… but that food…"

Hank eyeballed her and then shrugged and picked her up. Before she could make too much more noise, he threw her onto the top of the table. When he joined her, she was sitting and glowering at him.

"Seriously?"

"It always worked with Logan and Peter," Hank shrugged. "Now shut up and eat."

And eat they did: there was a huge roast chicken, massive fruit, piles of baked vegetables, and rolls the size of houses. At some point after eating half of a wing, Jenna went looking for Hank to find him sitting cross-legged inside a hollow he had eaten into one of the rolls. She climbed in beside him.

"Full?" she teased.

"I might be ill but I don't care," Hank smirked at her. "Did you get some of the wine?"

"Nope, too short."

"Here." He handed her a pistachio shell full of wine that he had sitting at his side.

Jenna drank half of it off in one go. "I haven't had booze in months. Gods, that's good."

Hank lay back, curling up inside the roll. "Surely we can sneak a nap," he yawned.

"I don't really care if we can or not," Jenna said, lying down facing him. "I won't be able to get back out of here if we don't."

Hank fell asleep almost instantly, but his dream was troubling. He dreamt that Jenna was straddling him, wearing next to nothing and covered in a lacework of scars. She leaned forward and kissed him and this awoke a deep hunger in him. They kissed fiercely until suddenly she was Danger. He realized this after it was too late and tubes snaked into his throat as he stared into her glowing blue eyes and struggled to break free.

Hank sat up with a loud cry, gasping for air. Jenna was awake in seconds, wildly staring at him.

"What?! What's wrong?"

"Danger!" he gasped.

Then thunderous footsteps wrecked the silence. Jenna's eyes opened wide in panic and Hank covered her mouth with a hand instinctively. Between the two of them, she was flight and he was fight but neither was useful in this moment. The listened as deafening voices talked and pulled out thunderous chairs and began to serve themselves.

Hank motioned for her to stay silent and watched the small space of the table that they could see. Someone placed something on the table beside their roll and he yanked her out of the roll by one arm as he darted under the lip of the serving plate. Jenna shrieked, a sound that would never be heard over the voices, as the plate scalded her arm. Beast tried to turn toward her but caught his back along the rim as well; a smell of scorched hair greeted Jenna's nostrils. Hank lay under the plate sweating heavily and trying hard to keep away from the burning metal; of course they were now hiding under the main dish. His eyes darted around the parts of the table he could see and he located a bunch of grapes lying some distance away. He indicated this to Jenna and she nodded, looking terrified. They both knew exactly what would happen if they were caught.

They ran, throwing themselves between the grapes and sinking to the tabletop once they were hidden. Jenna was shaking and her arm was blistering. Hank ripped a chunk of grape off and pressed it to her arm before tearing off one for his back as well, hoping the coolness might help.

"We can't stay here," Jenna murmured to him. "They'll eat everything on this table and then…"

"I know. Let me think."

Jenna watched him as he wandered a short distance into the grapes and stopped, staring hard at the tabletop.

"What was on the table?" he asked, walking back over to her.

Jenna listed off everything she had seen and where each was located. The grapes lifted off of them for a moment and then dropped back down as giants took some. This repeated several times, battering them with the sofa sized grapes and smacking Hank's head into the table.

Hank rubbed his head and swore loudly. "We need to get under the chicken bones. No one will touch them and if they get moved anywhere it will be closer to the ground. We couldn't get off of this table if we had to without killing ourselves."

Jenna nodded. Her arm had healed by now and they needed to relocate before they were beaten to death by grapes or eaten alive.

"I'll lead," Hank said and snuck out.

They managed to make it to the chicken carcass with a few close calls. Hank caught his pant leg on a serving fork and he had to tear it off completely to be free. Jenna lost a shoe and had to leave it behind since they were crossing a wide expanse of the table. The bones were still hot but not dangerously so, just enough to be uncomfortable. This combined with the grease and smell made for a disgusting hiding place, but Hank was right. The bones provided enough structure that they were safe from being crushed here and no one was disturbing them. They stayed in the bones and skin for what felt like hours but finally the meal ended. Jenna had, shockingly as far as Hank was concerned, fallen asleep and when it was quiet for about an hour Hank woke her up.

Jenna awoke feeling filthy and confused, again a too familiar feeling. Then she remembered that she was hiding for her life in a pile of chicken bones the size of tree trunks and it did not improve her feeling.

"I think we can leave," Hank whispered.

She nodded and followed him out onto the table top. They both stopped and stared in horror. The giants had not left; they had simply fallen asleep where they sat at the table. There were eight huge giants sleeping around a well-lit, horribly exposed table. Jenna's jaw set and she looked at Hank with sparks in her eyes. Then she walked out onto the table. He followed her tentatively, the two of them snaking around cups, plates, and scraps of food. They came back across Jenna's shoe and she jammed it back on her foot furiously. After a survey of the table, it was clear that the only way down would be to climb down one of the giants. Or…

Hank noticed it at the same time as Jenna.

"No," he commanded as she jogged to the far corner of the table.

Ignoring him completely, Jenna stopped breathlessly and stared. There were sets of clothing, a pack stuffed with provisions, and cakes of soap lying on people-sized mousetraps. It was clear that the giants had done this before.

"Hank…" she breathed.

Jenna felt his hand tighten around her arm, holding her back from the edge. "We cannot," Hank insisted. Her eyes narrowed and she yanked her arm free from him.

"You _do not_ make decisions for me."

Hank glowered at her and opened his mouth to argue, but stopped and simply stared. For the first time, he really _looked_ at Jenna. Her cheeks were hollow, her clothing was shredding at the seams, and she was covered head to toe in grease. Hank could remember a time in the short span that he had known her where she had looked nice, where she was recovering and putting on weight. Vision turning on himself, he realized that he could not look any better. He had barely made it this far and he was one of the toughest X-men.

After watching Hank's expression change significantly, Jenna began to feel mildly worried. His brow was furrowed and he was staring at her with slightly alarming intensity.

"Hank?"

She watched his vision move outside of himself and back to her.

"I can throw you. I probably can't make the jump with both of us. Is that acceptable?"

Jenna nodded, surprised, and braced herself.

* * *

"Chop!" Jenna screamed, dropping to the ground.

"I am!" Hank roared at her.

Above them they could hear the threats and rumblings of giants. Beast and Jenna had grabbed everything and avoided the traps, but had had woken the giants in doing so. This was the fairy tale and now they had one option.

Jenna rushed to the other side of the stalk and placed her hands against it. Not daring to pause for even a second, Hank hammered away at the plant, wondering what she could possibly be doing. But keeping some tricks up her sleeves had gotten Jenna to this point and she now played a card very quietly.

The beanstalk weakened on the side Beast was not chopping, compromising the integrity of the whole plant. It began to quake and then to fall. Hank grabbed at Jenna blindly and fled in the opposite direction of the falling stalk. When it and all it's occupants hit the ground, the world exploded in dust and darkness.

Jenna awoke to find herself clutching Hank's arm and their stolen goods. The area that had formerly been a hot wasteland at the base of the beanstalk was now transformed into a lush green oasis. Stirring beside her, Hank moaned about his head; he had a livid bruise but appeared to be fine. Jenna sat up and looked around. Her eyes landed on a small pond nearby and she scrambled to her feet, rushing to it and plunging her face into the cool water. She drank deeply, not caring if it was dangerous.

When nothing happened to her, she crawled back to Hank and started shaking him. He growled threateningly at her until she wrung her braid out on his face; then he leapt to his feet snarling.

Hank blushed when he realized that an alarmed looking Jenna was the only "threat" in the newly wooded area. "Sorry," he rasped.

"Water," Jenna murmured, pointing.

"Stars and garters," he breathed.

Jenna watched with amused surprise as he dove into the pond with abandon. She fished through the stolen pack and dug out a cake of soap before kicking off her shoes and wading out into the pond as well.

She handed him the bar of soap before swimming a short distance away. She could hear him pulling off his shredded and filthy pants and she too began to strip away the greasy clothes she wore. It could have been erotic if they both weren't so focused on washing off weeks of grease and sweat and dirt.

"You know what this means," Jenna called to Hank as he tossed the soap in her general direction.

"What?"

"We have knives, soap, clothes… We'll be slightly presentable and comfortable for a little while."

Hank smiled even though she couldn't see. "Could cut your hair, if you trust me," he called back.

"No," Jenna replied. "I'd trust you but the braid is more manageable."

"I sympathize. This 'man-bun' is far easier."

He heard Jenna stop moving abruptly and spun around, worried that something was wrong. But he was greeted with the sight of her standing with a hand to her eyes and her naked back to him. His heart broke a little at the sight but he kept his mouth shut.

"I promised I would never wear braids again…" she murmured.

 _It's like she grew up in a cult_ , Hank thought. Then the thought hit him again. And again. That was _exactly_ what it was like. The total lack of documentation or medical history, her anger and rebellion, why the Acolytes would seem better…

"Hank? You okay?"

He realized he had frozen with the realization. Several calculations raced through his mind: the outcomes of telling her versus not telling her. He made his decision.

"Yes. Just realizing how cold the water is getting. And all that climbing… I can barely move my arms."

"Give me some time and I'll rub them for you," she answered offhand. "But I've got to wash this hair."


	5. Chapter 3: Matches

**Chapter 3: Matches**

They swam a lot to pass the time in the following weeks. Hank scratched out possible formulas for a cure on bark or in the dirt, and Jenna's hands were always moving, tearing up bark and ripping up small patches of grass. Both were growing bored and frustrated. There was no intellectual engagement here and neither was good at being idle.

Hank felt a newfound appreciation for Jenna's survival skills. His realization that she had grown up in a cult of some sort brought a new light to most of the things he knew about her, including the stretch marks and scar on her belly that she went to no effort to hide from him.

And there were plenty of opportunities to hide things from one another that neither of them took advantage of. Beast had always preferred to do away with as much clothing as possible in the heat (being covered head to toe in fur) and Jenna had seen this as permission to do the same. Swimming in next to nothing and hunting or fishing in barely more was a vulnerability that they could both accept with ease.

"No one is coming for us, are they?" Jenna asked one afternoon as she floated on her back next to Hank. The days were cooling and they both wanted to take advantage of the fresh water for as long as they had it.

"I'm afraid not," Hank answered her sincerely. "They may yet arrive but it looks as though we cannot count on that."

A sigh issued out of the woman beside him and he grasped her hand gently. She twined her fingers in his, much to his surprise. They both deeply craved touch, though neither one would admit this aloud. He looked over at her and found his eyes lingering. Besides the scars on her belly and the stretch marks, her skin was pale and blemished. It seemed that only her hands had taken the penalties of her mutations. Jenna stared at the sky but was intensely aware of the feeling of his hand in hers. She was aware of every time they ever touched, because each one coursed through her like lightning and it was starting to awake a persistent hunger in her for more intimacy on all levels.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"Like, your name isn't _Hank_. What is it?"

He stopped floating to look at her and she blushed. "I'm bored. You're bored. Might as well kill time."

"Henry Philip McCoy. You?"

"Jennifer Elsie Coates."

"That's a lovely name."

"Henry is much better than Hank," Jenna stated without making eye contact. "But please don't call me Jennifer…"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Where were you born?"

"Kankakee, Illinois."

"Really?"

Jenna was surprised this caught his interest. "Yeah…"

"I was raised in Dundee."

This made her smile. "So you're just shy of being a city boy _and_ a Wisconsin-er? Two strikes."

"Family?" Hank continued the questions; he was curious.

"Two parents and four siblings."

"Well quite the opposite here. Only child."

Jenna was surprised. "You don't strike me that way."

"I'd bet money you're the oldest," Hank teased.

"Indeed. What gave it away?" Jenna teased back. She was starting to feel uneasy though and waded out of the pond, leaving Hank behind her.

He watched her go. He was so achingly lonely that he decided then and there to press his luck.

That night and several times a day for every day after that he would ask her the least threatening questions he could think of. It gave his mind a task (what could he ask her that wouldn't force her to tip her hand?) and someone to talk to.

Jenna noticed immediately what he was doing and decided to play along. While her usual response was that she did not need friends, she knew that was not true here. She had initiated hoping he would respond and he had not disappointed.

* * *

"And the-the-then," Jenna stammered out, "you realize that sh-sh-she's not dead. Then you have th-th-that song. I'd sing it b-b-but, you know…"

Hank nodded as best as he was able.

The weather had turned again but now to the opposite extreme. Frost had woken them only a month after the beanstalk and wolves had chased them into a very Dickensian abandoned city. They could not enter any building they had come across so far and the temperature had shot downward with every hour. Of course the stolen clothes did not accommodate this change.

After Jenna cracked a joke about the cake being a lie, Hank had tried to distract them both by asking her how she knew about Portal. She had explained through shivers that the Acolyte men loved nothing more than drinking and gaming in their down time, a past time she fit into perfectly. She had started playing Portal because it pissed Pietro off that she was significantly better at it than he was and that he couldn't run in the game. To kill more time, she had then summarized the plot of the game, knowing full well Hank probably knew it already. Someone had to do something; the imminence of their death was oppressive.

Now they were both shivering so violently it was becoming hard to walk.

"Look!" Hank cried, struggling to hurry over to a stand in the middle of the road. On it was a single book of matches. There was no firewood and no shelter.

"Maybe we can burn the stand," Hank gasped. He pulled out a match and struck it. The moment he did so, a vision opened up on the road in front of him. It was a newspaper front page. The picture was of him was standing at a podium holding a vial aloft; the headline read "Mutant Scientist Discovers Cure." The vision shifted: he was now injecting himself with the cure. His fur fell out, his skin changed, and his hair grew back brown and in much more limited quantity; he looked as he had not looked in a very long time. The match had burnt down to his fingers, and he dropped it with a cry. Jenna was staring at him and then back to where the vision had been but said nothing.

She picked up a match and struck it herself. A very different vision opened up before them. Jenna watched as a she was shown walking up to a cozy looking home. She was well dressed and appeared to be very well off. She opened the door and was greeted by a little boy, who she scooped up in her arms. An attractive man entered the room and gave her a long kiss. Jenna covered her mouth with her shaking hand.

Hank was staring at her now and Jenna's embarrassment did what it was best at: it flared into anger. She grabbed the matches from Hank and stormed to an icy puddle. Stomping through the surface skin of ice, she flung the matches into the icy water.

"No!" Hank cried. "Those were our only hope!"

"Like hell they were," Jenna snarled back. "I'm no Match Girl and I will _not_ be played like that!" She grabbed Hank and began dragging him into an alley. He followed her, sensing she had a plan even though he could not imagine what it was.

"Sit," Jenna commanded once they reached the furthest corner of the alley. It was still deathly cold but they were sheltered here.

Hank obeyed and was shocked when Jenna straddled him.

"Stop gaping and hold me," she snarled.

He wanted to argue but he suddenly realized she was growing very warm. Hank pulled her close to him and she wrapped her arms around him and dropped her head onto his shoulder. Holding her was very suddenly like hugging an electric blanket. It was not a fiery heat but a warm glow through her skin. His shivering subsided and he curled himself around her even more closely.

Jenna buried her face in his neck. This fractured every wall she had thrown up, but they did not matter now. She could not push through the storm and generate warmth, and they would not be subjected to visions and mockeries while she could still keep them alive.

Neither realized they had drifted off to sleep until they woke. They had slumped over onto the paving stones and Hank was almost entirely covering Jenna. His head rested on her shoulder and she still had her arms curled tightly around him, holding him close. She sneezed in spite of herself and this woke Hank.

The first thing he processed clearly was that someone near at hand had sneezed in his ear. He picked his forehead off of the pavement and looked down into luminous green eyes. A layer of snow covered them but they were alive. Because of her.

"You're kind of heavy..." she said quietly. His eyes were blue crystal in the morning light and his intense gaze made her want to lean up and press her lips to his.

"Of course." Hank stood, shaking snow off of himself and helping her up. "Sorry. You are so _warm_. Why did you not tell me?"

"I'm surprised you didn't guess," Jenna replied. Now that he was no longer covering her she began to shiver. It was still horribly cold, though the storm had passed.

"It does explain oddities I noticed," Hank conceded. "But why didn't you use that all of last night?"

"Can't move around and use it. Can't really do much and use it if it's too cold. Takes some effort," she shivered, trying to hide her clacking teeth. "Anyway, it seemed good to keep some cards close to the chest. I weakened the beanstalk by cooking it and the room didn't seem to figure that out." Fidgeting around a bit, Jenna finally met his eyes again. "My warmth is actually how Quicksilver and I ended up together. But it was very… borderline."

Hank stayed silent, recognizing this was as much for her benefit as it was for his.

"We were all drinking and I was kicking his ass at whatever game we were playing that night. I went out on the roof after the game was over to clear my head and be alone. Pietro followed me and brought a bottle of tequila. He insisted he was cold and needed to snuggle up; he plied me with tequila and… I woke up naked with him beside me."

Hank let out an involuntary snarl that made her jump. He looked fierce, his fur bristling.

"Sorry," he rumbled.

"No… I appreciate that. It's possible that was consensual, but I will never know. I've ignored it for so long, but when Jono gave me a chance to leave the Acolytes he was also offering a chance to leave that behind. Pietro and I were on and off ever since that night and I was too angry about so many other things to question why." She rubbed her face and met Hank's eyes. "I thought you should know… I didn't just screw terrorists. I just had no idea what to do and going along with and joking about it has been a way of dealing with it."

Hank reached out and took her hand in his; again their fingers intertwined.

"You don't owe me an explanation, Jenna, but thank you for sharing that with me. I am so very sorry."

It was so cold that Hank now felt as though he had been out all night without warmth. They needed to get inside. He examined the building beside them.

"One moment," he said simply before bounding up the side of the building. He made it half way up by grappling the bricks and window ledges before he lost footing and caught himself gracelessly on the way down. Motioning for Jenna to follow, Hank walked around to the front of the building. He began flinging himself repeatedly against the front door, which seemed about as willing to cave in as stone. Jenna watched, convinced that she may need to stop him from harming himself, when she heard the wood begin to crack. It took about five solid minutes more of Hank throwing himself against the door. His shoulder felt like it was about to explode and he was exhausted, but the action was keeping him warm and he had distinctly seen food in this building. Finally the door had caved in enough that they were able to climb through.

"You should let me heal your shoulder," Jenna insisted.

He brushed the offer away. "I heal bruising as quickly as you. If you want to help, begin breaking up some of these chairs."

There was a large fireplace in a dinning room on the first floor. Jenna threw the chairs against the wall while Hank shredded the curtains into rags and shaved peels of wood off of a chair leg with his claws. After they heaped the wood in the fire place, with the rags and wood shavings below them, Hank started to glance the knife off of a poker, spraying sparks onto the kindling. At last, the fire caught and with more tending it roared into life.

"Bless you," Jenna sighed as they both curled up as close to the fire as they could get without burning themselves.

"There's food around here somewhere," he rumbled in his deep voice.

"I'll be back then," Jenna said, jumping back up.

Hank watched her go and began counting silently; five minutes and he would go after her. This line of thinking was normal but the emotion behind it caught him off guard.

He heard her footsteps on the stairs around four minutes and stopped counting.

"Sorry," she apologized, dumping all the food she was carrying on the table. "I wanted to carry as much as I could. There's a pantry up there. And beds and coats." The truth was she had also gotten distracted. Jenna had been thinking about Hank's vision from the night before: she had never seen what he looked like "as a human" before. She thought of him as a mutant first of all, so his "human" appearance had never crossed her mind before.

Hank started carving up a frozen ham that Jenna had brought down.

"Here." She took it from him and warmed it in her hands until it was thawed enough to cut. "No sense in dulling a good blade over that."

They toasted bread and cooked ham on the fire irons they found around the dining room, eating their meal on lovely china with silver.

"How do we know this isn't going to be like that short story?" Jenna asked through a mouthful of bread.

"Which?"

"'The Magic Chalk.' We eat only food from here and then we can't leave here? Or it isn't real and we starve to death? I mean, how does this have silver cutlery and china and all this?" She waved at the room they sat in.

"That's the reason it's combined with the Bio-dome I imagine," Hank explained, chewing reflectively. "Provides a real food source. Otherwise, yes, we would starve here. And as for the cutlery, everything seems real in a Danger Room. That is the point."

"So we're meant to stay alive?"

Hank stared off and Jenna did not press him. They were alive now and it didn't seem like there was any reason or use in questioning why. Jenna watched Hank as he leaned against the fireplace, eating. In a long sleeve, tight fitting shirt, fitted with his straps and gear over it, and equally tight joggers, his body rippled with lean muscle. Even at rest he looked ready to spring, like a panther. Looking at him, she remembered the feeling of him holding her close last night and waking with him this morning. She had never felt so safe, not in many years. Averting her eyes quickly before he noticed, Jenna wandered over to the table to get some more food.

"Let's return to that mutation you've been hiding," Hank finally replied.

Beast watched her return and sit down, folding her legs under her. She picked at the food in front of her and he waited. Her braid now curved around her shoulder and her hair had actually begun to curl now as it grew out. He watched the firelight play off of her now prominent cheekbones. He now realized that while he had known since he met her that she was hiding anger and hurt, she was also hiding great reservoirs of strength, collecting it deep within her like underground lakes.

Jenna met his eyes. "I can radiate opposite temperatures. According to Magneto, it is the way my body 'metabolizes' the change in temperatures. I rarely feel weather unless it is very hot or very cold. Reminding myself to make my skin feel the right temperature to others takes conscious effort. I learned that to hide my mutation."

"Fascinating," Hank breathed, leaning in subconsciously.

Jenna looked mildly pleased. "Glad you like it," she teased.

"It saved my life," Hank answered honestly. "I appreciate it."

She tried to hide a yawn, but Hank also felt exhausted. Just the exposure to the shocking cold had been enough to sap his energy and strength.

"Here," Hank took her plate as she began to droop forward. "You want a hand?"

"I'd ask you to carry me if it wouldn't be a bitchy thing to do," she teased sleepily.

Much to her surprise, she felt herself scooped up in strong arms. Again her eyes rested on his lips before continuing to his eyes.

"You're lucky I'm so gallant," Hank teased back. "Otherwise you'd have to haul your own ass upstairs."

He gently put her back on her feet in a bedroom with a huge four post bed but no fireplace.

"I could sleep downstairs by the fire..." Hank offered reluctantly. It made him nervous to be on a different floor from her, though he refused to consider why.

"I'd rather you didn't," Jenna replied, taking his hand in hers reflexively.

Hank nodded. "I'll take the floor then."

Jenna was looking at him like he had extra heads.

"What?" Hank asked.

"Why would you sleep on the floor? That bed is huge and there's no fire in here. It's too cold and I give off heat."

"I can't possibly-"

Jenna sighed. "Stop being a prude, Hank."

"I'm not being a prude," he countered forcefully. "I am _trying_ to be considerate. I refuse to do anything that would ever remind you of what Pietro did to you. Ever. And using you for warmth? That's too close."

Jenna stared at him for a moment before answering. "I have no idea what to say to that, Henry. I really don't."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Both? You're the first person I've _ever_ met who has refused to take advantage of my mutations." She looked up at him thankfully, not sure how to express how huge that was to her, and then moved to the bed.

Hank followed without a word. Back to back and at far ends of the bed, they fell asleep.

A few hours later, Jenna woke to something shaking the bed. At first she thought it was a small earthquake. It took her a moment to realize this was Hank shivering.

"Idiot," she murmured sleepily. "Come here."

"I don't want-"

Jenna cut him off. "I trust you with my _life_ , Henry. You aren't taking anything that I am not giving you freely. Now come _here_."

Hank rolled over so he was facing the same direction as her and she slipped her body into the curves of his. Hank wrapped his arms around her, feeling his pulse pick up at the feeling of her body wrapped in his. Jenna smiled and kicked up the heat she was giving off. Hank pulled her closer almost in spite of himself.

Once Hank's breathing showed that he had fallen asleep, Jenna dropped off as well. She felt safe with him and she wanted to help him; telling him about Pietro had reminded her just how _good_ Hank was, even if he had been an annoying prick when she met him. She could not fight and she could not provide for him, but she could keep him warm if he would let her.

And she had to admit, she loved how she felt in his arms.


	6. Chapter 4: Witch

**Chapter 4: Witch**

From that night on, they slept in one another's arms. This was a rather convenient front for what each of them wanted, but through this course they did not have to delve into why.

The weather stayed cold, though it moved out of the deathly cold of the storm, and they found themselves camping in the snow once they left the abandoned city. Jenna was impressed by Hank's tracking and hunting skills. She had proved the better fisher when the weather was hot, but Hank's natural instincts shone through in ways she had never before seen as he was regularly able to catch more than enough food. Jenna showed so much pleasure at the snow that Hank was now certain that she had lived for a long time in a hot climate.

Nearly four months had passed and their main attempt to find intellectual engagement was to delve further into what made each other tick, debating and probing. For the days and weeks they were not fighting, running, or starving, they delighted in curling up together in the tent they had fashioned out of stolen tablecloths and talking through all hours of the day.

Jenna leaned against the tree they had used to set up their tent and rubbed Hank's head, which rested in her lap as he lay on the ground. His hair was damp from recently bathing and she combed it out with her fingers. Hank was continuously grateful for Jenna's ability to heat ponds, greatly reducing the number of cold baths he took in this unnatural winter. This also greatly increased the number of glances he was able to sneak at her naked skin. Jenna was somewhat aware of this and could not openly admit to herself that this was the entire motivation for being so "helpful." She loved watching him out of the corners of her eyes as he poured water over his rippling body.

"Favorite mixed drink?"

"Depends on the season," Hank answered.

"I'm going to pull your hair if you don't give me a straight answer," Jenna threatened. She was surprised to see him blush. "I'm just teasing," she reassured.

"I know. I just... wouldn't recommend the hair pulling unless... we're looking at a different kind of relationship," Hank said falteringly. He was trying to pass this off as a joke but he saw Jenna blush as well.

"Anyway…" she said.

"Right. I enjoy bourbon and cider. Or a whiskey sour."

"Or just a bottle of bourbon," Jenna teased.

This brought to mind Jenna's comment that sex with him could be purchased for the price of a bottle of Jack. He found himself wishing that this comment could be put to the test here and now, and he blotted the thought out as quickly as it had arisen.

"And you?" he asked her, betraying none of this outwardly.

"Not sure. I _really_ like beer."

Hank smiled. "That should surprise me."

"Because I'm a woman? Sexist!" Jenna said teasingly. "If I'm going mixed drinks, I'm going for the sweetest thing I can lay hand to, so margaritas or Irish coffee. But if I'm looking to _drink_ , then Death in the Afternoon."

"My. I'm not sure my delicate constitution can handle such a drink."

"Well, I'm sure your liver will hold out much longer than mine."

He chuckled and lay there with his eyes closed. Jenna remembered the vision of him changing into his old appearance.

"Do you wish you looked more human?" she asked quietly.

Hank looked up at her curiously. "Where does this come from?"

"Your match vision."

"I'll answer if you'll explain yours."

Jenna looked hesitant but agreed.

"I do," Hank answered simply. "My physical changes have been frequent and often painful. They have taken me as far from being human as one can go before being an animal, and yet I have always been me in here. I often worry that newer students and faculty will simply see me as an animal, since this is how I have always appeared to them."

"No…"

Hank looked up at her surprised by the sadness in her voice.

"You are the best man I have ever known. How could anyone ever see you as anything but that?"

Hank met her eyes with an expression of sincere gratitude and caught her hand in his. "And you?"

She sighed heavily. "I have not lived somewhere that I could call home since I was twelve years old. Since then I have been living with people I hated and who mostly hated me, though they didn't always realize it since I don't appear to be a mutant." She rubbed her face. "And I can no longer bear children, though I have given birth."

Hank tried to look surprised. "I didn't realize—"

Jenna stopped him mid sentence with a look. "Yes, you did. I've made no attempt to hide any of this," she gestured to her stomach and hips, "from you, and you're supposed to be a brilliant doctor."

"I had suspicions," Hank murmured.

"Well, there was a point where I wanted all that: a good job, a husband, and a family. But that is so far away from where I am now… It's just not a reality."

Hank was staring at the stolen tablecloth that made up the wall in front of him. When he spoke, he spoke deliberately.

"I believe that you have lived through more than your fair share of abuses and mistreatments. I believe that leaving the effects of this behind has taken more self-control and work than I ever realized when we first met. And I realize that I say this from a Danger Room that holds us hostage, but I would hate to think you had given up on what you want because I truly believe you could build whatever life you wanted."

Jenna smiled. "See? Best man ever."

It was not that they could not see they cared for one another. It was that the idea of falling in love while abused and trapped in a death machine terrified both of them. So they ignored it all.

* * *

Hank looked down at Jenna from his left eye, his right one swollen shut. They had been attacked by enormous Arctic foxes and the fight had been brutal. It had driven them away from their camp, and though Jenna had grabbed their pack, they now had no tent or coats. The wild game had also vanished.

"This is becoming too familiar," Hank growled.

"You mean the weeks of fighting minor foes, then getting our asses kicked by the weather, and then facing a 'boss level' fight? That?" Jenna snapped sarcastically.

"Yes."

Jenna sighed. "How's the eye?"

"Mending. We need food."

"We _need_ you to stop stating the obvious every time we run out of something. We also need water and shelter and to be rescued from this fucking death trap!" Jenna ranted, her voice growing in volume as she spoke. Hank stopped and simply looked at her. Jenna stopped and sighed again. "I'm sorry. I'm sick of starving to death every few weeks and I'm scared."

Hank began to reply but stopped, frozen.

"What?" Jenna whispered.

"Do you smell that?"

"No…"

"Follow me."

Hank knew as soon as he caught the whiffs of gingerbread what fairy tale they were entering into, so he was not surprised when they crept up on the candy and gingerbread house. Jenna gasped a little beside him and his mind immediately began to comb through ways to get something for them to eat without being caught. He crept into denser bushes, motioning for her to follow him.

Jenna, on the other hand, first noticed the appearance. The cottage looked like a manic child had built it. The roof was sagging. The walls were crumbling. The icing was pointed a bit too sharply and seemed a bit too menacing. Jenna watched Hank; he was going to try to get them some food, but she knew this story. Going anywhere near that house would be death. Though now that they had no other food options, leaving the house behind would also mean death as well.

Hank had a plan. It wasn't a great plan, but it should keep Jenna safe. "Now, we could try—"

Beast let out an abrupt roar of pain and shock. His legs began to go numb and he spun to see Jenna yanking a knife out of his back. Then he hit the ground heavily, dropping onto his side facing her as she caught his head in her hands. Jenna moved him clumsily and managed to prop him up against a tree. Hank was completely aware of what was happening, but he could no longer move most of his body.

Jenna knelt in front of him and met the anger and confusion in his eyes. "Sorry. I really am. But as you've said before, you will recover from a minor stab wound, and I didn't think I could hit that nerve in your back any other way. See, I know what fairy tale this is, and one of us needs to get caught. I can't possibly rescue you so I need you out here and there's no way you would let me walk up there while you could stop me."

Beast tried to speak, to beg her not to do this, but he was only able to let out a groaning sound. Jenna took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. She felt an overwhelming urge to press her lips to his and Hank felt the same impulse surge through him.

"Let me do this, Henry. It's all I can do."

Then she stood and left him there, leaning against the tree in the snow. He was facing the right direction to watch her approach the gingerbread house, and he watched as she broke off a chunk of the window sill and began to eat hungrily. For some time, nothing happened. Jenna was clearly growing more frightened the longer the stillness went on. Then, something moved, and there was a loud smacking sound; Hank watched as Jenna dropped soundlessly. Then a figure appeared from a nook in the roof and began to drag her into the house.

Beast's heart raced in the stillness and the falling night. He had no way of knowing if she were still alive and he was trapped inside his mind, where all of the worst possible options whirled with hurricane force.

It was close to three in the morning before Hank was able to walk again without falling down. He still had heard no sounds from the house and he knew he would need to investigate before he could even think of acting. A large part of him was furious at what Jenna had done, but he also was impressed. She had caught him completely off guard and had sacrificed herself for him. And to be honest, he had never thought twice about doing the same for her.

He was finally able to approach the house with grace and silence as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

::::

Around five in the morning, Jenna woke in a cage. Her head hurt, but she was familiar enough with her healing process to realize no serious damage had been done. This was both comforting and terrifying; if no damage had been done, the worst was yet to come. As her mind cleared, her eyes landed on a crone staring at her.

"You're not what I wanted at all," the crone griped to her in a voice like breaking branches. "I wanted that huge, delicious creature with you."

Jenna glowered, hoping to hide how terrified she was.

"But you will do," the crone rasped. "We should get started. We will need most of the day."

"For what?" Jenna's voice shook with fear.

"Butchering."

::::

Hank realized very quickly that the only way into the little hut that was not tightly sealed from the inside was through the chimney, which was smoking and glowing with a fire below. Beneath it's layer of candy and gingerbread, the crone's gingerbread house was truly a solid metal bunker. Beast felt his hackles raise and the fur along his back stand on end as he investigated the chimney; a strong smell of blood flooded his senses.

Horrifying screams reached his ears and he knew if there was any hope for Jenna, he would have to go through hell to save her.

::::

Jenna screamed as meathooks were driven through the thick scars on her palms. She had fought as hard as she was able and yet the crone had been unnaturally swift and strong. Not even Hank would be able to best her...

Jenna was pulled by her hands over a cauldron and led forward; her ankles had been chained to the floor and her hands pulled her forward so most of her body leaned over the iron pot.

"Don't want the blood to ruin the meat," the crone cackled, advancing on her neck with a long knife.

There was a thunderous sound and something enormous and horrible burst from the fireplace. The crone spun toward the sound and Hank exploded from the hearth, shaking embers from his fur. His hands were burned, but the bark he had used to shield him had worked pretty well.

"Jenna!" His heart stopped as he looked over at her. The momentary distraction was all the crone needed and she sliced him easily across the arm. Hank roared in pain as his arm began to bleed. He dogged another swipe with the knife, now realizing how small this room was and how much his size could hurt both he and Jenna here. He looked back at Jenna and saw the crone standing with a knife to her throat.

"Leave now, creature! She's mine!" the crone shrilled as Jenna choked back cries; blood was pooling on the floor beneath her hands and running down her arms, soaking into her shirt.

"Take me!" Hank snarled. "I'm much bigger. Far more meat on these bones."

The crone eyed him for a little while and Hank knelt, putting his wrists together behind his back. The witch moved behind him and Jenna tried to shout a warning. There was a whanging sound and his vision swam but he managed to stay conscious. A metal pan dropped beside him and he listened foggily to the sounds of Jenna screaming once again as she was taken off of the hooks. Jenna fell beside him, sobbing and trying to touch nothing with her now gaping palms.

Hank clumsily wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to him. "Heal my head," he mumbled thickly. Jenna quickly placed a palm to where the pan had cut his head and Hank felt the concussion lift.

"Why are you here?" Jenna whimpered. "How will we get out?"

But Hank had a plan and she could see it in his eyes. Her palms began to seal back up and she watched the crone bind him, tying him at the elbows tightly behind his back. The crone attached the hooks to the ropes and yanked his arms high behind his head, forcing him to bend over the cauldron. He growled loudly as his arms were wrenched nearly over his head but he was still acting groggy.

Jenna caught on when Hank did not move as the witch placed a knife at his neck. Grabbing the pan with weak and bloody hands, Jenna ran at the witch, striking with all of her might. The witch whirled with the knife out toward Jenna, slicing her across the upper chest, but it did no real damage and gave Hank his opening. Snapping the ropes easily, he yanked the knife out of the crone's hand and threw it behind a woodpile.

Screaming, the witch threw herself at Hank and sunk her teeth into his neck. With a pained bellow, Hank leaned into the fireplace, pressing the witch to the flames and coals. The witch released him and he drug Jenna behind him, hoping to protect her should the witch jump back out of the fire. But the crone sizzled and shriveled before their eyes like a huge snail.

Jenna's legs gave out and she sat down heavily; leaning over that cauldron was the most frightened she had ever been and she had been through _a lot_. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at her hands: the scars now carried over to the backs of her hands, no longer easily hidden.

"We need to figure out a way out of here," Hank murmured, kneeling beside her and rubbing her back comfortingly. He wanted to do more for her, but this place assaulted his senses in too many ways to linger here.

"She had a key," Jenna said, clearing her throat.

A quick search made it clear that the key had to be on the witch's body. Hank poked at the body before revealing a key on a cord around the shriveled neck.

"Hand me the knife. If I get burned I'll be fine," Jenna ordered, trying to sound less terrified than she felt. It took some work to get the cord off and by the end of it, she was coated in ashes. Hank unlocked the door and breathed in the fresh air like he had been holding his breath for a thousand years. He took Jenna's hand in his, helping her to her feet beside the body they had drug out of the fire.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the body moved with shocking speed; it latched on to Jenna's arm and the grip was tremendous. Jenna began to yank in panic. There was a loud crack and Jenna let out an agonized cry. The body was creeping toward her and Hank decimated it in one swipe, smashing it to a powder that coated them both. Picking her up, he fled into the woods before anything worse could rise from this nightmare cottage.

* * *

Jenna was horrified to see her shoulder jutting out at an unnatural angle and turning purple. Hank was examining her shoulder in the firelight of the camp they had hurriedly set up.

"Can you move it?"

She shook her head, unable to speak through tightly clenched teeth.

"It's not broken. I think you've dislocated it." He met her eyes apologetically. "I need to relocate it or it won't heal."

Jenna looked around and then wadded up the sleeve of Hank's coat, which lay on the ground beside her, and stuffed it in her mouth. Hank took her arm, braced himself, and swiftly relocated her shoulder. She bit down hard on his coat, forcing herself to not scream; there had been so much of that already. She slumped forward and Hank gathered her to him.

They had stopped along a lake and the sounds of night life were comforting after so many months in the Danger Room. The temperature had risen almost as soon as they had fled the cottage, now reflecting late winter and early spring.

"I'm covered in the dust of her body and my own blood. I need to bathe," Jenna finally whispered. "But I can't use my arm."

"I can help you," Hank answered, surprised as the words left his lips. He helped her to her feet and they walked over to the water's edge.

Jenna managed to undress half of her body while Hank completed the task for each article of clothing. Jenna was blushing but not a heated fire of embarrassment; when Hank looked at her he saw the entrancing glow of anticipation. His heart began to pound thunderously as she walked into the water and he pulled off his own shirt, fetching soap and a scrap of cloth.

Jenna stood in the water and could feel the warmth of Hank's body as he stopped behind her. She listened as he lathered up their washcloth and felt the gentleness of his touch as he took hold of her waist. He caressed her body gently, washing her back with the cloth. Hank's touch became more gentle still as he washed her bruised arm and shoulder, displaying a tenderness she fervently wished would be applied elsewhere. She felt his face close to her shoulder, the presence of his body half curved around hers as when they slept. Jenna closed her eyes, now doubting the wisdom of this as heat flooded her.

Hank moved around to face Jenna and felt his loudly protesting mind shut off. His breathing picked up and his hand shook a bit as he gently washed her face, tenderly cradling her neck with his other hand. He cleaned the cut on her chest before his hand trailed between her breasts. He and Jenna were now pressed so close together that he was unable to wash her stomach but he did not care. He gathered her to him impulsively, wrapping his arms around her. Her skin was so soft and she was so close, close in every sense that ever mattered.

Jenna worked her hands over his chest, pressing closer to him and reveling in the tight muscles that compromised every aspect of his body. Her fingers brushed over his nipples and he sighed in a way that made her want to pull that sound from him every day for the rest of her life. She brushed back hair that had fallen into his face and let her hand rest along his jaw.

Their eyes met. They were both breathing heavily and everything felt hot.

Jenna began to lead his lips to hers as he began to bend toward her. But this shocked his brain loudly back into action and he pulled away from her, quickly placing distance between them.

He wanted this so _much_ , but what _then_ …? Where could they possibly go if this failed? To go forward would be to risk _everything_.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, handing her the soap and cloth and wading out of the lake.

Jenna watched him disappear from sight and let out the breath she did not know she was holding. That had been the right decision. She did not need another relationship that started with an ambiguous sexual encounter. But gods… she wanted him so _much_.

When Hank returned she was wrapped in his coat and trying to braid her hair.

"Here," he said. He finished the braid for her and they immediately parted. Jenna dressed, only asking Hank to help her very few times and each time he did, he averted his eyes from her body. That night they slept near one another, but distance was placed between them and they faced each other.

The emotional closeness between them stayed strong but they no longer slept together unless the weather was extreme.

The temptation was simply too much.


	7. Chapter 5: Bluebeard

**Chapter 5: Bluebeard**

Jenna woke in a metal chamber. She guessed that they must have been moved while they slept. This was a surprise for several reasons: 1) there had only been a couple weeks between this and the gingerbread house while normally nearly a month passed between major incidents, and 2) they had not been chased or starved here but now had been transported into the trial itself. Panic clawed it's way up her body, grabbing at her throat. Change here was only ever bad.

There was one door and it was unlocked. This door led to a stone hallway lined with heavy wooden doors on each side. Walking forward, she noticed that keys stuck out of the locks of each. A familiar coat of arms decorated each door and Jenna began to feel sick. At the far end of the hallway facing her, another opened and Hank wandered out.

"Henry?" she called to him. They started toward one another but the doors closest to each of them snapped open, blocking the hallway so much that there was no way of getting past them, forcing each of them into their own room.

"Jenna!" Hank called to her, leaning around his door to look at her. "What fairy tale is this?"

Jenna swallowed hard. "Bluebeard's castle…"

"What is it that we are to do here?"

"In the fairy tale, Bluebeard has his dead wives locked behind a door…"

Hank realized the way this was likely to play out and he felt a surge of fear. "We'll just have to go through. Wait for one another in the hall, alright?"

"Of course."

And they moved into their respective rooms. The doors slammed, and there was silence.

An hour passed before Hank stumbled out of his room and collapsed in the hall. He had been trapped once again in his feline form and his friends had been shattered and torn limb from limb. He was barely able to piece them each back together with his horrible, massive hands. It had been a psychologically horrifying experience and he was relieved to see his own more primate hands once again.

A reek of incense flooded his nostrils and Jenna fell out of her door, kicking it shut behind her. She lay where she had landed, face down on the floor and breathing heavily.

"Jenna?" Hank called to her. After his own trials he could only imagine what hers must have been.

She rolled onto her side and looked at him intensely. She needed to survive this and if she did… she needed to tell him _everything_. Jenna hauled herself up and approached the next door.

"Come on, Henry. We can do this."

There were five doors total and each led to a personal demon that they had to face. The struggles became more and more unendurable, until they both lay in the hall recovering before their final doors. Neither had any sense of time anymore. Hank's arm was broken, and Jenna was coughing up water, half drowned.

"Jenna…" Hank murmured.

"Yes?" she rasped in reply.

"I'm afraid this may be the end."

"No…" she moaned in reply. "Not like this. I need to tell you …"

Hank's heart skipped a beat as he waited for her to finish her thought.

"I need to tell you _so much_."

"Jenna?"

"Yes?"

"You're incredibly important to me. You should know that."

She sat up and their eyes met.

"Come on," she said, struggling to her feet. "This is the last door."

They both entered their rooms. Darkness engulfed them as the doors slammed shut behind them.

Jenna froze waiting for a light to come on. Stumbling forward, she followed the wall on her right. It was completely disorienting, but eventually a light snapped on. Rubbing her eyes in the new brilliance, she saw Hank standing across the room from her. Her heart began to slam in her chest as she looked at him. Nothing good could come of this.

"Jenna?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

His expression darkened. "You are _not_ Jenna," he growled, advancing on her with increasing speed.

Jenna tried to make up her mind about what to do as he approached her, tensing up for an attack. Could this really be Hank and would he truly kill her? She ducked around him and ran to the other side of the room they were in, though it was deceptively small. To her dismay he began to bound after her on all fours, bearing his teeth.

If she did not fight back, she would be killed (that much was clear as he flung his whole body at her, forcing her to roll away) and what then?

Jenna dogged a swipe, but his claws raked her leg and she cried out in pain.

"Hank, it's me!" she cried, hoping to gauge him or sway his course of action.A final question flashed blindingly through her brain: was it worth surviving without him?

"I don't care how much you plead or bleed. I know you are not real."

And he lunged for Jenna once again.

Only ten minutes later, Jenna stood over the corpse of Hank McCoy and debated plunging the knife into her own chest. It had been sheer luck that she had been the one with the knife when they had been trapped here and more luck still that she had beaten Hank at all. Their fight had been too close. She was only now regaining her hearing after a slap in the head that burst her eardrum and she had bite marks healing along the back of her neck, just to name a few of her injuries.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how she needed to explain — bear her soul — to Hank. If she had killed him…

She had to drag the body away from the door to leave the room. There was no one in the hall. The door slammed shut behind her and she pounded on it for several minutes to no avail. The silence in the hall was horrifying and her ragged breathing was deafening.

Sliding down the wall, she felt her legs giving out. There was nowhere to go and no further threats would arise. She slumped over and fell into a deathlike sleep.

Hank opened the door into the hall an hour later to find a scene very similar to the one he had left behind. While his ordeal had been a bit more involved, it had ended with the same central conflict: killing Jenna. This would have been simple had he not been suffering a broken arm and facing someone he cared deeply about; he had prayed it was mere illusion but she was so convincingly like Jenna. And now to see her lying prone in the hall like this… They had survived time and time again, but Hank never took for granted the fact that he could turn his back or fall asleep or look away for a moment and in that moment she would be dead.

Jenna woke to someone shaking her desperately. Eyes focusing on Hank's battered face, she threw herself into his arms and held him tightly. Hank sank down beside her, pulling her into his lap with his good arm. Jenna felt hot tears pouring down her cheeks and realized after a few moments that Hank was crying as well. He would not meet her eyes, and she was filled with an emotion somewhat foreign to her.

Hank's lip had been split open in the second to last door and Jenna leaned up and pressed her lips to the injury. Hank froze, uncertain of how to respond. Once again, he knew what he wanted, but this time he was not physically capable and his emotional fragility frightened him. When her tongue traced his lip, he closed his eyes, biting back a moan.

Jenna felt him freeze up and knew this was the worst time for such a big risk. Once his lip had healed she pulled away and got to her feet, helping him up as well.

A door opened at the far end of the hall and they stumbled toward it, injured and half dead with exhaustion. They found themselves in the basement of a castle and made their way up and through the stone halls, until at last they found an enormous bed. They collapsed in it together, falling asleep instantly.

* * *

Hank woke gradually, realizing he was deeply hungry. His arm was outside of the covers and bore a scar from a knife wound; the bone hurt but was set, so he imagined this was Jenna's doing.

Jenna. Where was she?

He snapped his eyes open and saw her writing at a nearby table, wrapped in a thick smoking jacket that was almost comically big on her. She had healed nicely, though he could see ragged teeth marks on her neck that were too alarmingly similar to his own. He concluded, correctly, her own final trial must have been the same as his. Hank pushed the meaning of this out of his brain, not wanting to be the scientist in these matters.

Jenna looked up and smiled brilliantly at him. "Good evening, Henry. You've been out for two days."

He sat up and patted the bed beside him; she climbed into bed with him and they curled themselves around one another. Jenna grew soothingly warm as he held her.

"It's how I heal," Hank answered her. "Deep, regenerative sleep."

"Hungry?"

"Starving." Then he laughed cynically.

"What?"

"When I was younger, my grandparents would scold me for saying I was starving. They remembered the Depression and they told me I should never say such a thing, that I would never be starving. Do you think I've earned the right yet?"

Jenna disentangled herself from him and looked him in the eyes. She wanted to tell him that she had starved in so many ways for so much of her life, but she needed to wait, to tell him once and with everything in order.

"I'll bring up some food. There doesn't seem to be any threat here right now."

They ate in silence, sitting across from one another at the desk, and Jenna worked her way through three glasses of wine in fifteen minutes before Hank cut her off.

"I need to tell you about myself. I need you to know," Jenna said, slurring slightly. She could only get buzzed if she drank fast otherwise her body fought it off, and she needed all the help she could get for this.

"Are you sure?"

"I wrote it down, Henry. I want to read it to you."

Looking over at the pages she had written while he was sleeping, he realized he had never before seen her handwriting; there was so much he did not know about her, and he wanted to know.

When Jenna saw he was not going to argue with her, she settled back and began to read.

"I grew up in the Church of Humanity."

Hank leaned forward.

"My father was a deacon and then a priest and finally drew so much attention that he was offered the position of Purifier. We moved to one of their Arizona camps when I was in seventh grade. You can imagine my surprise when I began to prove capable of healing beyond what was normal, beyond what was human. It was credited to divine causes because it was thoroughly useful, but I knew what I was when I stopped feeling hot or cold. Why would God give such a pointless gift?"

She took a deep breath and turned the page over, her hand shaking so much the paper rattled loudly.

"I was pulled out of school. To this day I only have an eighth grade education; everything else I know has been self-taught. I was pulled out of school and placed as a permanent healer for the military troops of the Purifiers. When they were brought back after campaigns against my own kind, I was to heal them. I did so, hoping that healing them would put to good use the abominable corruption in my genetics that I had been cursed with, that maybe God would forgive me for being a mutant if I helped His servants. I was in eighth grade and I healed men who had been shot, cleaved in the face, burned… I quickly learned my powers did not extend to the dead. Mercifully, I had been spared the ability to resurrect or I would have shot myself in the head."

Hank felt himself holding his breath as she read and told himself to exhale.

"I wanted to leave, but my whole family was there and I did not know any other way of life. I loved my family and they had raised me in this world. I now realize this was a cult, but I truly believed that we were the only ones holding back the darkness. I had been told about how those who left would fall to their doom and I had seen how those who tried to escape were punished…"

Hank watched as she began to cry. He could not imagine how this could possibly get worse but he knew it must; he remembered the scar and the stretch marks.

"When I was twenty, my family told me that as the oldest I needed to set a good example and marry well within the Purifiers. I thought that maybe a good marriage could save me from my private hell, bring me someone who I could turn to. I had always wanted a family…" She broke off, her voice cracking too much to speak for a few minutes. Finally, she continued: "The man was twenty-eight and… sexually experienced. I was a virgin and knew nothing about sex; our marriage was the worst part of my life to date, including this nightmare. He impregnated me as soon he could though he had no success for over two years and cursed and hit me for it regularly; I was relieved that the pregnancy gave me some respite from his advances and made him somewhat more tender toward me. Stupidly, I believed that maybe a child could bring us together and save me."

Hank's heart broke as he watched Jenna stop reading entirely and cover her face with her hands as she cried. For the second time, Hank began to cry as well.

"I lost my baby boy," Jenna finally continued. "He was fine and then he was dead. I had never known a baby could just die in the eight month like that. I went to the hospital and when they induced, my uterus ruptured. They controlled the bleeding and my body healed itself, but I never wanted to hurt that deeply ever again. They knew where I was from and they could see the scars on my palms; they wanted to save me in the only way they were able and so I had a hysterectomy. My husband saw no further use for me if I could not bear children and when we got home he tried to beat me. I grabbed a knife and swore I would kill him and there would be no one to heal him or save him if I did. He knew I was serious and since we could not divorce we lived completely separate lives. He had open affairs, bringing women home in front of me, and my family refused to speak to me any longer. From their perspective, my life had fallen apart and it was my fault."

The worst over and the wine wearing off, Jenna dried her eyes and continued.

"The day I turned twenty-five, after my husband slept off yet another affair, I stole his uniform and left the compound. I made it to Tucson and shaved my head and left my birth name behind. This started my era of what could informally be called going batshit crazy. I hitchhiked around the country, waitressed to pay for booze, and slept with anyone who would show me the kindness my life had lacked for so long. Magneto found me bar-keeping at a club in Manhattan; he proposed I join them, promising a life among my own kind, and I accepted and never looked back."

Jenna let the last sheet of paper fall from her hands to join the others on the floor. "By the time Jono spoke to me, I had realized that Magneto was only shades better than the Purifiers. The X-men came for me at night and took me to the school. And the rest is history."

Their eyes met and Jenna began to panic. Maybe that was too much; maybe this was the sort of thing no one should ever know.

Slowly, Hank walked around the desk and took her hands in his, gently pulling her to her feet; Jenna stood in front of him and he took her chin in his hand.

"I'm _so_ sorry," he breathed, his voice rough with raw emotion. "I don't even have the words…"

Jenna felt relief flood through her, combined with exhaustion. She leaned against him and Hank picked her up and carried her to the bed. He gently tucked her in and then climbed in next to her. Jenna rolled over to face him, her brilliant green eyes searching his face.

"Just sleep," Hank murmured. "I am not going anywhere." Then he leaned over and kissed her gently at the corner of her lips.

Jenna burrowed into his arms and fell deeply asleep.

* * *

Hank's attitude toward her went from playful and close to explosively intimate. He understood her so much better now and he admired her even more than he had before. Jenna noticed that he joked with her on a deeper level — making playful jabs at some of the things she had told him — and that he held her more often and stayed with her almost all of the time. She felt closer to him than ever before. Jono knew she had grown up with the Purifiers, but knew nothing of her marriage or her baby. She had never confided these things in anyone before and Hank had not rejected her.

And Beast reciprocated. He told her of how he and Abigail had met, and his epic failure in following Abigail into space. All Jenna had known, as she had made clear in their early fights, was that he had been dumped by a chick with green hair when he was living in space.

"You mean," Jenna asked skeptically, "that you _moved into_ space for your hook up?"

Hank blushed but was determined to be as honest with her as she had been with him. "Yes. Which makes it no wonder that we did not work out. But…"

Jenna had already heard about Trish and she had been able to extrapolate from there. "But that isn't how you really do relationships, is it?"

"No," Hank agreed, looking her deep in the eyes. "It's not."

Jenna blushed and looked away. She knew where they both wanted this to go, especially now, but it was terrifying.

* * *

About two weeks after Jenna told Hank her past, they were both curled up in the castle library, where they had made a nest of blankets and pillows from the other rooms.

"You sure you don't need a shorter book?" he teased her gently as she worked her way through _Jane Eyre._ She threw a pillow at his head and grinned.

"Anything you can read, I can read faster," she teased back.

"You do have an incredible reading speed…" Hank agreed. "They teach you that in eighth grade?"

Jenna laughed aloud. She had never been able to make these jokes before, to tease and be teased about the things in her life that were truly absurd. She leaned against Hank, and he pulled her into the basket of his crossed legs, wrapping himself almost completely around her.

Their eyes met and Hank's heart skipped a beat. She could laugh with him, even in all this misery; she had fought beside him for almost half a year now and had saved his life more times than he could count; she was tough and sharp with a softness that belied a huge heart. Hank felt his heart expand to encompass everything about this moment.

"I love you…"

He didn't realize he had said this until the words were out of his mouth.

They both froze.

Neither breathed.

Jenna's mind had shut off the moment the words made their way to her brain. She felt, above all, betrayed. She had relied on Hank to be a safe place for her; he had always been her haven from the constant struggle and turmoil of their lives. But now he had complicated _everything_ with those words. Jenna had not thought of _love_ in a long time. Hank's expression was now openly horrified as well, making it unclear how _he himself_ felt about what he had said.

Jenna needed to react, so she simply got up and walked away.

Hank waited until she left before he calmly walked down into the basement. He found a room, closed the door, and began smashing everything he could lay hand to. _How_ could he have said that?! His horror at saying this had consumed him almost instantly. He did love her but to blurt it out like that?! To drop it on her like a guillotine?! About the only thing he could have done that would have been worse would have been to propose during sex!

He paused in what he was doing. He _did_ love her. Hank had not realized how much so until now, and now he wished he had told her differently. He could not have chosen a worse time if he had tried; he feared this could look horribly calculating after she had made herself so vulnerable to him. But it had welled up out of him so naturally it had been like saying the sky was blue…

That night they ate together as usual and completely ignored what Hank had said. Things carried on much as they had before; they needed one another deeply and neither would let anything come between them, not even something as honest as a declaration of the love that clearly flowed between them.


	8. Chapter 6: Snow Queen

**Chapter 6: Snow Queen**

It was the silence that woke Jenna. She was used to the sound of Hank breathing and talking in his sleep (he was as delightfully verbose and well-spoken as ever). She sat up and knew in her gut that another trial had begun, so she dressed in layers, unsure of what to expect, and packed a backpack with all they could need.

Jenna opened the front door of the castle and balked. A massive rose garden greeted her, with stems as huge and threatening as a forest. She darted forward to where a chunk of blue fur clung to a thorn. It seemed her path had been set for her then. Jenna realized the backpack was too large and would be a hinderance, so she quickly fashioned a smaller bag, similar to the one they had made out of the cape all those months ago, and set off through the roses.

As she began to pick her way through the rose forest, Jenna tried to think of what fairy tale this could be. Sleeping Beauty was the obvious rose fairy tale but they had all been true to gender so far. Besides, these roses were not attacking her; they were simply being a quiet obstacle and possibly confusing her sense of direction. Alice in Wonderland had flowers that were enormous, but they mocked Alice and eventually decided she was a weed. And Jenna thought this may only be true in the movie anyway...

It worried her that Hank had been taken; she would have to fight to get him back and the last time one of them was kidnapped… Jenna ran her fingers over the scars on the backs of her hands.

After two days, Jenna was panicking. If he was in any sort of time sensitive situation he could be dead by the time she reached him. She had also noticed a chill beginning to grow and she hoped that this was a good sign. Finally, scratched and bruised, she stumbled out of the roses to find a frozen tundra stretching away in front of her; in the distance, a castle glinted in the light snowfall. The knowledge of what fairy tale this was suddenly came to her and she sat down heavily. Jenna knew exactly what would be waiting for her in the castle. Huge crows wheeled in the sky above her and when one descended on her and she did not fight it as it lifted her into the air and flew away with her.

What felt like hours later, Jenna was dumped in the courtyard of the castle. The crows swooped in on her and she scrambled to her feet and tore away toward shelter. A beak snapped closed on her calf and she shrieked in pain. Snatching the knife from where it was strapped to her side, she blinded the crow with a skill that appalled her. It let her go and she crawled inside the castle doors, barely making it beyond the reach of the other beaks.

Knowing there was no point in yelling for Hank, she limped through the frozen and silent castle, leaving behind a trail of quickly frozen blood. Finally she found the great hall and there, lying on a white fur on the floor and in nothing but pants, was Hank. Jenna ran to him, dropping to his side instantly. He was freezing cold and unmoving; his eyes were closed and Jenna thought she could detect a heartbeat but it was so faint…

"It may be too late," a familiar voice said behind her. Jenna began to shake slightly.

"Please…" she breathed without turning around.

"Do speak in sentences," Emma Frost, the White Queen — the Snow Queen — purred at her.

"Please spare him."

"We can't both have him," Emma snapped, now standing in front of Jenna. She was larger than life, but to Jenna she always had been. She had always taken Hank's attention from Jenna and she had always made Jenna feel small.

"I will kill you to have him," Jenna snarled.

"Such brutalities will not be necessary," Emma replied in a bored tone. "If you can prove you desire his heart more than I do, you may have him. But if you fail, I will take his heart for myself." She crossed her hands across her chest and Jenna saw long, knife-like nails.

Jenna slowly eased herself on top of Beast and wrapped herself around as much of him as she was able. She grew warmer, willing herself to give him all the warmth she had. After some time he was warmer and clearly had a pulse, but was no more responsive than before.

Jenna had been told to prove she had his heart, and turned to the most true fairy tale archetype she could think of, desperately hoping it would work. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his stony face, running her fingers gently over his eyelids, his cheekbones, and then his lips. Leaning forward, she whispered into the shell of his ear, "I love you too, Henry."

Then she pressed her lips to his. She poured all the warmth and love she could into him, trying by force of will to bring him back to her. Jenna did desire his heart; she had had his heart for so long that the thought of being without it, without him, was more than she could bear.

Hank felt as though he were being drug up from deep underwater. He was so cold and his body seemed so removed from him. Slowly he became aware of someone speaking to him though the words were muddy and he could not arrange them into a thought. But then a familiar and deeply pleasant sensation reached him and he reached back.

Jenna felt Hank's hand land heavily on her back and she knew that this approach was working. He nearly knocked the wind out of her, but she clung all the tighter and kissed him all the deeper. She began to shiver as his lips pressed in eager response to her own.

Hank felt now as if his body had been asleep. Tiny knives stabbed all over his body but he could feel Jenna wrapped around him and where she poured warmth into him there was not pain. He clung to her more tightly and kissed her all the more deeply. Her words had finally sorted themselves out in his brain.

When Jenna felt Hank's fingers brush her hair out of her face, she pulled away from him. He sat up, bluest eyes meeting her shining green ones.

"Jenna…" he breathed. She was shivering violently and he knew she had given an enormous amount of energy to save him.

"ENOUGH!" the Snow Queen screamed from behind Hank. He spun, having never seen her before and his jaw dropped. This was a level of emotional cruelty he had not expected from the room and it terrified him. If the room was willing to play with their feelings for one another like this, they were in more danger than ever before. He quickly took in the situation: Jenna's half-healed leg, his own state of undress, and the empty frozen palace.

Emma began to grow and Hank snatched up Jenna and ran.

"Fairy tale?" he asked as he raced through icy halls.

"The Snow Queen."

He nodded. That brought everything together very nicely. He saw creatures below in a pen and he dove through the window, to Jenna's great displeasure.

"Get on!" he commanded, mounting one of the reindeer himself.

"I can't ride!"

"You have to try! Please!"

Jenna saw the emotion in his eyes and barely managed to clamber onto a reindeer before they were off. The Snow Queen burst through the glassy roof of the castle, now mounted on a crow, and gave chase. Hank's face betrayed the fear he felt and they raced over frozen tundra. As the Snow Queen swooped toward them, the crow she rode snapped sharp talons at them. Their deer swerved to avoid the monstrous bird, but the struggle took away from their speed and moved them further from their goal. Several miles ahead of them there was a forest; they just needed to make it into the protection of the trees.

Jenna was bent completely over to hold on to the reindeer and did not see the crow's second attempt until it had dug it's talons into her side. She screamed and Beast acted in blind instinct. Leaping from the back of his reindeer onto the crow's foot, he tore it at with teeth and claws. The crow released Jenna and she watched in horror as Hank was lifted into the air.

"Hank! No!"

Hank looked back at Jenna, pausing for the first time in his blind rage. The Snow Queen — Emma Frost — grinned down at him and then spiraled straight into the sky.

Jenna screamed his name as she watched him lifted from her sight. She would never see him again. Only the speed of the deer kept her from leaping off. When they reached the forest, the deer stopped and Jenna fell off the side of it, lying in moss and dead leaves. She hadn't realized how hard she was crying and had attributed the pain to the three gaping holes in her side, which were now mostly closed. Her mind spun as she lay there; she could not survive here alone and she did not want to. She lay in the leaves and moss, sobbing and at a loss for what else to do.

Jenna awoke, unaware she had fallen asleep, to the sound of something heavy landing nearby. She was on her feet in moments, her side healed now, and immediately recognized the crow. Her knife was back out and she waited as the shape on the crow's back jumped to the ground. The crow took flight and she recognized Henry McCoy in the light of the setting sun.

Hank ran to her, taking her in his arms. He had killed the Snow Queen (a much closer fight than he even wanted to think about; Emma had always known him very well) and the crow had changed allegiance accordingly. He had struggled to find the right little woodland since there were many surrounding the castle. Terror that she had not survived had grown with each empty wood he found but now here she was. So he was surprised when she greeted him with a slap across the face.

"How dare you?!" she raged at him. "I told you not to leave me! I told you…" And she threw herself into his arms.

Hank took her in his arms and held her so tightly, resting his stinging cheek against the top of her head.

"You said you loved me," he breathed.

"I do."

Hank looked down into those bright green eyes and again his heart exploded.

He leaned forward and kissed her, and Jenna kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. A flurry of emotions swelled up in both of them: passion, relief, and a flare of desperation. Hank clung to her as tightly as he could and let his mind dissolve in a rosy haze, bending it entirely to the feel of her lips. Jenna was desperate to push things further still and she recalled a conversation several months ago; tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled gently but insistently.

Hank felt her pulling on his hair and the rosy haze dissolved into a surge of testosterone. Jenna pulled harder when she felt him grow hard and clung to him with all of her strength. Her resistance melted away, allowing him access to whatever he wanted as their tongues tangled together. Hank traced the softness and warmth of her skin beneath her shirt. He lifted her off her feet and pressed her to a tree to free one of his hands. He felt her legs wrap around his waist and he groaned softly, cupping her breast in return.

"Hank..." she moaned, and he twirled her nipple between his fingers. She drew in a hiss of breath and began to grind her pelvis against his. He leaned into her, pushing back in eager response.

A howl wrecked the night nearby, startling them both. Jenna and Hank parted swiftly, now back to back and ready for a fight. Disappointment and frustration flared in both of them, but they had been here too long to ignore the obvious threat that was implied by that sound.

"Come on…" Hank said, his voice rough and husky. "We need to find somewhere safe."

Jenna nodded and they jogged off into the forest.

They stopped at a clearing by a pond. Nothing had attacked them from the water and so they considered water a bit of a safety. The water itself could be unreliable, but having it to their backs was better than nothing.

Hank could barely look at Jenna. He was ready to tie himself in knots, but he would not push himself on her; the moment had passed and he _would not_ pressure her. But the constant cycle of near death and raging desire was so damned confounding he was close to giving up entirely.

"I'm going to wash," he mumbled after they had gotten a fire going. Without looking at her he walked to the water, stripping off his pants at the edge before diving in, thankful for the equivalent of a cold shower.

Jenna watched him go, annoyed that he had just left her sitting here after such an intense encounter. Wasn't this what they had both wanted? She would have second guessed herself but not an hour ago... heat rushed across her body as she recalled the memory. It was like that time he refused to share a bed with her in the freezing house. Jenna stopped sulking, realizing it was actually exactly like that. Hank would do _anything_ to not hurt her, including avoid her completely when he wanted to do the dead opposite. If she wanted things to change, _she_ would have to act.

Hank had finished washing his hair when he heard a small sound behind him. He turned and once his eyes caught Jenna they refused to budge. Jenna stood by the edge of the water, completely naked. The rising moon gleamed on her pale skin and Hank felt muscles contracting across his body. She looked divine, her long hair framing her like Venus.

She walked out toward him, slowly and deliberately. Hank did not know where to look so he continued to stare at her. Jenna loved that stare, loved the look he gave her that held no secrets, just intense desire. She stopped with her body pressed against him, rubbing their centers together as she settled herself against him. When he only groaned in response, Jenna took his hands and placed one on her ass and the other on her breast.

"Do I have to do it _all_ myself?" she teased in a low voice.

Hank let out a deep sigh at the feeling of her skin in his hands. "Jenna, if you're not—"

"I swear Henry if you do not shut up and make love to me right now I will walk away and you will never—"

He cut her off with a kiss and she grinned against his lips before diving into his kisses completely. Hank reached for every part of her he could get, running his hands over her thighs, hips, back, and breasts. Jenna wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled his hair viciously in response, digging her nails into the back of his shoulder.

"Oh stars and garters..." he groaned, tilting his head back for her to have more purchase on his hair. "Oh Jenna..."

He moved with a speed his size could not account for, lifting her in his arms and guiding her legs around his waist. Jenna gasped breathily as his fingers began to circle her core, first slowly and then with growing pressure and speed.

"Holy... hell... Henry..." she whimpered in a surprisingly high pitch, breaking away from his lips.

He felt her take hold of his length and he knew that it had been far too long. "I need you..." he gasped into her neck as he nibbled at the skin there, still circling her center.

"Please..." she moaned, pulling his lips back to hers.

Wading out of the pond with Jenna still wrapped around him, Hank lay down on a patch of moss by their fire with Jenna beneath him.

"No," she commanded, rolling over so she was on top of him. "Like this."

Hank's eyes rolled back as she took hold of him, guiding him inside of her. As she began to rock her hips across his, he leaned up, placing his weight on his palms. Jenna grinned at the change in position and took hold of his shoulders, now drawing her entire body across his with every thrust. She could feel him growing, the friction deliciously unbearable. She kissed him, moaning into his mouth as she came, with him following swiftly after her. Hank let his arms crumple, holding Jenna on top of him and still kissing passionately.

After a few moments they parted. Both breathing heavily, the new couple's eyes met.

"I love you, Henry."

Listening to her speak in that breathless way made his heart race even faster. Hank grinned at her. "I love you too." And after a pause he added, "I've wanted to do that since I told you not to pull my hair. I'm glad you didn't listen."

Jenna grinned back at him, lying across his chest and looking into his eyes. "I've been hoping this would happen since you helped me bathe."

"If I remember correctly I didn't do a great job at that."

"Oh no. You did much better than I expected."

Hank smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm worried, Jenna. These trials…"

Jenna placed her fingers on his lips, silencing him. "I know. But just for tonight, let's forget it all."

They curled up together, falling asleep in each other's arms.


	9. Chapter 7: Candle

**Chapter 7: Candle**

Hank awoke and yelled in rage before his eyes were open. Jenna was not there. Yet another trial.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a cage. Out of the trees beside him walked a figure he knew all too well.

"Hello, Dr. McCoy," purred Danger in her mechanical hum.

Hank was torn between shrinking back and trying to tear her arms off.

"This is it," she continued, unfazed by the hatred he wore plainly on his face. "This is where it ends. I'm surprised you both have made it this far but that woman…" She smiled and it worried him more still, "that woman is something else. A healer… you were very lucky indeed."

"She wasn't meant to be here?" Hank queried.

"No. She was there and I took her. A life for you to mourn over when she died. But she didn't die and so I adjusted… Though your little conversation did provide some useful inspiration. Do you remember? 'A fairy tale life?' Now I'm going to tell you a secret. The catch is, you may not tell your little sidepiece. And if you do…"

Danger leaned forward and while Hank considered an attack, he knew all too well how brutally the X-Men had been thrashed the last time. He listened and his eyes widened in shock.

"NO!" he roared in desperation, trying with all his might to break through the bars of his cage.

"You know," hummed Danger, "you've never asked _why_ …"

Hank stopped, feeling his insides crumple.

"Could it be you know why? Could it be that you believe you _deserve_ this in some way?"

"Regardless of what I deserve, _she_ does not deserve any of this!" he snapped, fight rising up in him once again. "Keep me! Kill me! Just let her _go_!"

Danger leaned in, scowling. "No," she replied simply. "I _will_ kill you, Hank McCoy, but I will kill you with her hands."

Turning on one heel, she walked away, smiling to herself as she listened to his panicked pleading behind her. She would leave now, leave him to his fate and to the final test.

* * *

Jenna woke in…Hank's labs. The room seemed to tilt as she looked around and realized that she was back in the mansion. How _the hell_ was she back in the mansion?

She was on her feet in moments when she heard someone approach. When she saw who it was, Jenna fainted dead away: Hank McCoy in peak physical condition, as though nothing had ever happened.

Groggily, she awoke to Hank supporting her and holding a glass of water to her lips. But… it was all wrong. He didn't hold her like he had been for months now, not tenderly or with any affection. His expression was a removed, doctorly concern as well; he did not seem especially upset or worried.

"I don't understand," Jenna finally managed, staring up into his blue eyes. "Why do you look so healthy? Have I been asleep that long? How did we get here?"

Hank looked at her like she had begun speaking another language. "I'm not sure to what you are referring, Jenna. My health has always been very high and _we_ never went _anywhere_."

Jenna's stomach rolled and she felt dizzy again.

"You and I were taken by Danger. We've been trapped for almost six months." She remembered her arm and thrust it towards him. "Twenty-five weeks! How do you not remember…?"

Hank took her arm and ran a finger over the scars that ran from elbow to wrist. He then ran a hand through his (short) hair and sighed.

"I was hoping to discuss this at a later time, but if you will not be satisfied otherwise I suppose I can tell you now."

"Tell me _what_?"

"Jenna… you were kidnapped."

Roaring sounds in her ears almost drowned out his words but she forced herself to hear what he was staying.

"The Purifiers came for you. They wanted a test subject, a weapon. Your… your ex-husband suggested you. We finally found you a few days ago, but it took, as you say, almost six months. I believe, though I will have to examine you more closely, that they had been probing your brain to implant false memories and encourage your brain to create an alternate reality where you would be forced to fight and train at an accelerated rate. Eventually you would have been used as a weapon, with the Purifiers provoking your false reality to drive you to attack."

Mind whirling, Jenna tried to figure out what was going on. That explained so much and so little. Horrifyingly, this (this cold lab and cold man) seemed to make more sense to her than anything that had happened the past six months. But why all these scars? Her body _ached_ with half a year of fighting and starving.

As if sensing her objection, Hank continued. "I would also hazard the guess that they had been putting you to the test on several different occasions, given the scars on various parts of your body." He lifted her chin to look her in the eyes as tears began to spill down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Jenna. I truly am. I'll give you some time to process, but I must insist you stay here in the labs. Gen X is gone and I will need to monitor you as much as possible. Try to rest."

The moment he was gone, Jenna collapsed into agonized sobbing. She could not possibly make sense of anything now. She knew full well the Danger Room could create all of this (she had fought Hank before) but _why_? And Beast's explanation had made as much sense as any she could have possibly thought of herself.

But the tears were not for the confusion she drowned in and suffocated under.

She had lost Hank. Or rather, he had never been hers. And she had loved him _so much_.

* * *

Jenna did not realize she had fallen asleep but she supposed that exhaustion combined with soul-crushing sadness had done the trick. When she opened her eyes, it was pitch dark, with the exception of one small candle guttering about five feet away. Why a _candle_?

"Jenna?"

"Fucking hell!" she screamed, jumping away from the voice that had suddenly sounded in her ear. "Who —?"

"Jenna… it's me. Hank."

"No! No no no no no no…"

Hank could hear her begin to cry and was completely baffled. "Jenna?! Jenna, please come here! Explain what's wrong!"

"It's too much," she finally managed. "I don't understand, Henry! I don't know what's real!"

"Oh god…" she heard Hank breathe. Then his tone changed. "Jenna," he soothed, "just come here. I will do anything in my power to help. I always have and always will."

"I can't see anything… Can you?"

"Yes. I can see you. Move forward until you feel the edge of the bed."

Jenna followed his instructions and found herself swept up into his arms. Her first instinct had been to fight him, to get away, but she found she could not. He was too real, too warm, and too loving to let go of. She allowed him to hold her, lying on top of him and resting her head on his bare shoulder.

"Explain what happened," Hank instructed softly.

"Don't you know?"

There was a startling silence; she could feel his whole body tighten in… worry? panic? fear? This scared her more than everything else that had happened.

"No… I'm kept here," Hank finally stated, carefully and as if he was weighing every word.

"What happened?"

"I… I can't tell you…I'm so sorry, Jenna. I'm only now understanding the extent of this myself."

"But why…?"

"Because I care for your safety more than my own. Please, you must trust me."

"Trust you?!" Jenna tried to push away from him, but he held her close. "You are the _second_ Hank McCoy I've spoken to today! _You_ told me that I had been kidnapped and brain probed by the Purifiers as some sort of weapon! _You_ were exactly the way you had always been before any of this! I don't even know if _you_ are really _you_ now because I CAN'T SEE YOU!"

"I'm so sorry…" he repeated. His heart felt like it would crack. The insidiousness of this was beyond what he could have guessed, even after what Danger had told him. Jenna could not trust her own senses and could not trust him. The isolation this wrapped them both in could destroy everything they had built in the past six months. And he could not tell her… he could explain nothing and he had a message he had to give her on top of all of it. "I promise you it is me. I wish there was a way I could show you."

"Lie still…" Jenna said. "Please." Hank's words had sparked an idea. The room was pitch black to her, only highlighted by the pathetic light source, but she had her other senses.

Jenna sat up, straddling him, and her hands began to roam over his stomach. She found the scar on his left side from the Red Riding Hood attacks, then leaned forward, tracing the muscles on his chest. She could not resist catching his nipples in her fingers and she felt him start to grow hard beneath her in response.

Hank arched his back toward her when he felt her hands slip around his sides, knowing what she was searching for. Jenna leaned close, wrapping herself around his naked torso, and found the burn on the back of his shoulder from the giants' feast. Hank lay back and Jenna pressed closer to him as his arms wrapped around her, one hand holding her ass and pressing her hips into his.

He felt her fingers combing his hair and audibly purred; he could almost hear her smile in response in the otherwise silent room. Her fingers traced a long thick scar on his scalp: the beginning of everything. Her hand slipped to the back of his neck, following the curve of bite marks from the witch.

With her face so close to his neck, Jenna gently sucked on his throat, earning a rumbling moan. More gently, she raked her teeth across his throat; his grip on her ass greatly increased. She moved to his face, her own now only inches away from where she sensed his to be. Tracing his eyebrows, she found a scar that cleft his eyebrow in two, gained in a fight with huge Arctic foxes. And then she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

Hank sighed with pleasure as he felt her tongue trace the scar on his lip from the hall of doors, Bluebeard's castle. Their first kiss…

Sitting up, Jenna led his free hand to a scar between her hips.

"How did this happen?" she asked, her voice husky with desire.

"I stabbed you in the stomach."

He heard her pull her shirt off and toss it to the floor. She led his hand up her stomach and between her breasts, leading his fingertips across a scar on her chest.

"This?"

"A witch slashed you across the chest."

His hand was led back down, across her forearm.

"These?"

"Twenty-five weeks here. Half a year."

Jenna threw herself forward in a rush of relief and desire, kissing him with more emotion than she believed she had left. Her bare chest pressed against his and Hank reveled in the feel of her skin. He was buzzing like a live wire; the almost total darkness had kicked every other sense into overdrive and she had never felt or smelled _so good_. Jenna adored hearing him come undone for her, knowing that it was her who had unraveled the only man who had ever been a match for her.

They fit together in the dark with explosive chemistry. Hank had always loved driving her crazy and pushing her over the edge, reveling in her unguarded intensity, and she did not disappoint.

In the silence that followed, their pulses raced and they listened to one another breathe heavily. Jenna was curled up beside Hank, who had curled himself around her in return.

"This is real, my love," Hank murmured, as he ran his fingers over her skin.

"I believe you," Jenna finally whispered. "But I don't care if this is real or not. I would rather be here, in this with you, than…" She was at a loss for how to explain the sterile and loveless reality she had woken to before. "I love you, Henry."

"Oh Jenna… please if nothing else hold on to that. Please believe that this, that what we have, is real. No matter what this false version of me may say."

They kissed deeply again, but this time Hank pulled away from her.

"I still have something I must tell you. A warning."

Jenna's heart dropped.

"That candle must be our only light source. You are not allowed to see my face. You must trust that this is real without seeing."

"What the fuck kind of rule is that?!" Jenna shrilled, hitting him when he pulled her closer. "This is sick! I can't _do_ this!"

"I could not agree with you more. But it is true. If you bring that, or any other light, to see my face… it will be the end of everything."

Jenna fought not to cry and nodded, knowing Hank could see her.

"We will get through this," he comforted. "We must."

* * *

When Jenna awoke back in Hank's labs, her heart fell but she felt she could deal. What caught her off guard was the glowing helmet like contraption that was strapped to her head.

"I see you're awake," Hank greeted her from a bank of computers. "And I see you've been dreaming."

He unhooked her from the machine and motioned for her to join him.

"Do you mind telling me what you dreamt?"

Jenna went scarlet and Hank frowned at her. "You have nothing to worry about. I assure you—"

His tone made her blood boil so she responded with force. "You and I made love. And I assure you, you enjoyed _every moment_ of it."

Now it was (this version of) Hank's turn to blush. "Have you ever considered that this may be because I was with you when the Purifiers took you? That they are using this… attachment to manipulate you?"

"I doubt anyone would have any attachment to _you_ ," Jenna snapped. She had forgotten what a prick Hank had been. Or was… Again there was a creeping feeling that this was more real, that this made more basic sense than anything else.

Hank stared at her for a moment. "Believe me when I tell you that hearing of these dreams does not bring me any _real_ pleasure."

He could not have hurt her more deeply if he had slapped her. But Jenna was used to cruelty and _her_ Hank had taught her how to deliver a killing blow.

"Why don't you get to your point? Fill me in on how sex with you is a form of torture. I think I'm getting the picture though."

Beast's eye flared and she stood her ground, meeting his hateful gaze with her own.

"Have you seen the movie _Inception_?" he snarled at her.

Jenna nodded.

"Obviously, it is wildly inaccurate but it works for a point: the subconscious mind is suggestible and dreams can be controlled and manipulated. It seems very likely that, like Wolverine and countless others, you have been trained and controlled through dreams. You would need some higher motivation and apparently a romantic attachment was chosen. For _whatever_ reason."

"Then why would I still be having these dreams?"

"They would have a strong psychological hold. You were gone for half a year."

"How would I break their hold?" Jenna felt weak. If this were true… she had to be free of them. Going between the two "worlds" hurt too much.

"If you could explain the rest of the dream, _without graphic detail…_ "

Scowling, Jenna explained how he had made her promise not to bring a light but had refused to tell her why.

Beast snorted derisively. "That's a rather paltry version of Cupid and Psyche."

Jenna blushed. The similarity had not escaped her.

"Are you asking my advice?"

She nodded.

"If you want these dreams to end, you must take action. Whatever is being hidden may be key, as in a psychic barrier. Or this may break the tie between you and this romantic figure, thus freeing you from the cycle created by the Purifiers." He stood and placed her chart at the end of her bed. "Take the light. See what is really there. After all, it's a dream. What's the worst that could happen?"

Jenna was shaking for some time after he left. She quickly realized she had been sealed into the room she had woken up in. A debate raged in her now and her head ached with it.

If this were a dream, this Hank would be correct: there would be no downside to disobedience.

But if her "dreams" were real? Who knew what horrible cost would come from her disobedience.

Again, Jenna did not remember falling asleep but awoke in the same bed with the same single candle visible on the other side of the room.

"Henry?"

Warm arms wrapped around her in response. She turned into him, curling together with her love.

"What happened?" Hank asked quietly, when she did not speak.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But—"

She tilted her head and caught his mouth in a kiss. "Please…" she murmured, "just be here now."

And gladly, hungrily, amorously, Hank obeyed.

Jenna waited until she could feel his breathing slow. Then she rose from the bed, knowing Hank would not wake, and walked to the candle. There was an odd click as she pulled it from the holder. Slowly, she walked to Hank and held the candle aloft. But what she saw broke her heart: Hank lay with his wrists and ankles raw from manacles.

Beast felt light on his face and awoke with a roar.

"JENNA!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and drug her to a window that was bolted shut. Beast began to throw himself against it with all the strength he had left, but he feared it would not be enough; he had not eaten in two days.

"Hank! Henry! What's happening?!"

"The room is rigged with explosives," he gasped before throwing himself against the window again. The wood was starting to splinter.

"No…"

"The minute you took the candle, a countdown began."

"For how long?"

"Three minutes. If I had told you this, Danger would have blown the room."

The window cracked and he forced it apart with his claws and hands. Looking at the opening, Jenna realized something that knocked the ground out from under her in seconds.

Hank would never fit through a space this narrow, but she would. He had wasted his three minutes saving her, knowing he would not be able to follow. _This_ was real. The cost of the light would not be the death of a dream, but the death of her love.

She screamed wordlessly as he threw her from the window.

As she fell, she watched the tower explode.

Then… roaring… the world ending… collapsing… blackness…


	10. Chapter 8: Rescued?

_So I was less than satisfied with the original ending and decided to give it another go. This chapter will be followed by a final chapter. I am quite pleased with this ending and hopefully you will be as_ _well!_

* * *

Jenna had not moved in days.

She had woken on a submarine and begun fighting tooth and nail to get free and find Hank. It took a powerful telepathic blow from Monet to convince her that this was real and that she was safe.

She had fallen to the floor gasping for air in the small space. Her leg ached and would not support her weight though she only realized this now. After living almost feral for so long the tiny space of the sub felt like a trap. But her team had been there to comfort her, as much as they could.

It had turned out her ankle was broken and she had been given a cast. From that point on, Jenna had refused to talk, had gone mute. She had been led to see Hank and there she stayed, staring at him as if she could will him back to life.

She knew she was responsible for the state he was now in. Tubes snaked all throughout his body and his skin was badly burned across his back. A healing transfusion was promised when they got back to the mansion but for now Emma and Banshee fought to keep him stable.

Jono kept a close eye on her. The first time there had been no one paying attention to her, she had locked herself in the bathroom and shaved her head bald, cutting off a foot and a half of hair.

Since she refused to talk or respond in any way, Skin visited and told her of how they had discovered she and Hank were gone, the search, and eventual discovery.

Of all people, Quentin Quire had realized something was wrong first. When Jenna did not show for class, he had scanned looking for her. Drawing a blank and knowing that she was unlikely to just go out without telling anyone, he looked for Hank, who seemed to have begun taking a liking to her. Nothing as well. When Logan was alerted to this, everything was thrown into high alert. Magneto insisted he had nothing to do with Jenna's disappearance and telepaths confirmed this.

Hank's list of potential enemies was far longer and took far more time to comb through. Security footage of the school finally revealed the attacker, thought it had taken time to even find where they had been when they disappeared.

Realizing that Danger had taken them, Emma was dedicated to sweeping with Cerebro while others tried contacts they knew. Emma had eventually located them in a Danger Room like dome deep in the ocean. The X-men knew they would be able to reach them eventually, but a sub had to be made that would fit a team _and_ hold up to the pressure of somewhere that deep.

All of this had taken roughly six months.

Six months Jenna and Hank had been missing. Six months they had been fighting to survive. Had the X-men arrived any later, they would both be dead.

Her head had titled toward her arm. The tally marks lined it from elbow to wrist and back several times. It had felt so much longer. It had been a lifetime.

They reached land after three days in the submarine. Jenna had to be carried out after refusing to eat since they had found her. As Jono pulled her close in his arms, he could almost feel his non-existent heart breaking. She was way too thin and she would die if they could not save Hank. She would die _because_ they could not save Hank.

Logan met them with the jet and within an hour of arrival, Hank lay on a bed in the labs, receiving a blood transfusion from Warren.

Jenna fought to keep herself upright as she stroked his hair, pushing it out of his face. It was burned nearly off, the long hair almost gone. She watched with baited breath as his face took on color and the skin of his back mended. Fur began to regrow as she watched. Logan caught her deftly as she toppled out of her chair, fainting with exhaustion and relief.

* * *

Hank woke realizing that he could not move his arms, and panic flooded through him. He tried to lurch upright but was held tightly to the bed he lay on facedown. Roaring in fury brought running people and yelling.

"Hank! You're safe, Hank! You have to breathe!"

Kitty was beside him, soothing him and staring into his face with wild concern. He stopped roaring, panting as the strength of his anger left him.

"Where is Jenna?"

"She's here! We're bringing her right now."

He twisted his head as far as he could, watching Jenna being rushed into the room in a wheelchair, her leg in a cast. Guilt flooded through him and his back hurt terribly as he tried to push himself up from the bed.

Jenna was with him, her hands on his face and arms in moments. The range of emotions that ran wild across her features brought tears to his eyes.

"It's you…" he breathed, relaxing his muscles at last.

"It's me…" She blinked and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry…"

"It wasn't you. It wasn't you," he soothed.

"I'm going to take off the restraints," she murmured, "but you have to stay down. Your back…"

He nodded and felt her freeing his arms and legs and shoulders. He reached out and found her hand, so familiar and yet so alien in this place.

She could feel it too. He saw in her eyes the uncertainty and discomfort. How could they move forward from this? They had been kidnapped, imprisoned, tortured for half of a year with only one another for help or company. What future could there be for either of them, or for them as a couple?

"Can you leave us?" Hank asked no one in particular, his voice raw.

The room cleared out with impressive speed.

The first thing Hank did was to break his promise and turn onto his side.

"Henry! You need —"

"You. Here. Please…"

Without hesitation, Jenna pushed herself onto the bed and curled up against his familiar bulk.

It was the first time her heart stopped hurting since she had woken on that submarine.

"I haven't told anyone anything. They don't know what happened to us. They found us after the explosion and didn't really see much."

Beast did not know if he was relieved or upset.

Jenna continued, "I don't know how to tell them. How do you explain…?"

"You don't," Hank said. "They don't have any right to know."

Jenna pressed herself more tightly to him. "Thank you."

"Jenna…"

She looked up, genuinely surprised to see the look he was giving her. "What is it?"

"I can't bear to be without you. I know that here we were never close, but I don't know what I would do…"

Jenna stopped him with a kiss, lurching upward to press her lips to his. Hank remembered Bluebeard's castle as their tongues tangled, now in a similar state of willingness but disrepair. He broke away, pressing her forehead to hers.

"We'll figure this out. We'll be okay."

* * *

But being okay was beyond their reach. Their nerves were shattered, they both suffered from severe PTSD, and they struggled to fit back into the flow of the school.

This was made clear the first time that someone startled Jenna. She had been reading in the library and had not heard Jono's approach. He had laid a hand on her shoulder and she had screamed with everything in her. Hearing her from Logan's office, Hank had ripped through halls, doors, and very nearly some people to get to her. Jono had been thrown through a bookcase for holding her shoulders and trying to calm her. It had taken half an hour to calm them and longer for them to unwind.

The other mutants were afraid of them and with good reason. Upsetting or frightening either of them resulted in epic meltdowns and a potential violence. And it was not simply what one said or did that would set one or the other off; scents and sounds and comments would trigger them. Jenna and Hank had refused outright to take any part in a midsummer bonfire, citing the smell of woodsmoke. The smell of roast chicken sent Jenna running, and the sound of crows made the fur on Hank's spine stand up.

They looked like they had survived a death camp, alarmingly thin and hollow eyed. Alarming scars laced their bodies, which were on display in the heat of the summer. But since neither were willing to talk about what had happened to them, everyone struggled to understand.

They lived together and struggled to function when they were apart. After a month of this, Jenna was becoming desperate.

Hank found her curled up in the closet with tears pouring down her face. He carried her gently to the bed and held her tightly against him, folding his legs around her. He didn't ask her what it was; he knew full well since he lived the same torment.

"I nearly killed myself," she finally whispered. "Just to make it end."

Hank tilted her to him, staring into her face with horror.

"You can't leave me here. That would be too cruel."

"I know. But I can't go on like this."

Beast nodded, brushing her hair out of her face tenderly. "What if we could erase what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Telepaths have done it before. And while Quire is not trustworthy, he is an Omega level telepath. We could forget."

"But what if we forgot too much…?"

Hank had no answer for that. He didn't want to lose her, but maybe it would be better. Maybe if they could move forward it wouldn't matter.

* * *

"Wait, you want me to do _what_?"

Jenna narrowed her eyes and Quentin turned down the attitude.

"We want you to erase our memories," Jenna said icily. "I am not sure how long I can live like this."

Quentin's eyes widened. He of all people knew how much she meant what she was saying; the longer he lived at the school the more he tried to respect the minds of others, but he could not help knowing certain base level things about people.

"You realize that erasing memories is pretty much the most off limits thing I could do, right?"

"And you've cared since when?"

Quire ran a hand through his pink hair. "Listen, if I messed up, you guys could be vegetables. I could kill you."

"But you won't," broke in Hank, "because we all know that you are far more skilled than some might realize."

Quentin could sense his desperation beneath the flattery and that was really what swayed him. Two teachers — Hank McCoy, one of the greatest mutants living, being one of them — were half begging him to help them and beneath it all was a trauma that would break them.

"Alright. You need to take a day at least." Quentin could not believe he was even having this conversation where he was the responsible one, but they reluctantly agreed.

As Hank and Jenna wandered out into the lawn, reveling in the warmth of the late summer. Their hands drifted together, fingers entwining. When they reached the trees at the end of the lawn they kept walking, out through the trees until they reached a clearing.

"Are you sure?" Hank asked, facing Jenna and taking her other hand in his.

"I am. I don't want to lose you, but… "

He looked down at her and felt his heart crack a little more to see tears yet again running down her hollow cheeks. She did not deserve this. She had been kidnapped and tortured for his mistakes and his errors.

Hank hung his head, tears pooling in his blue eyes. "You should never have met me… You would have never had to face all this."

Jenna did not know what to say to that. She was better off with Hank than she had been at any other point in her life. So to fill in for the lack of words, she pulled his face to hers, pressing her lips to his.

While they had kissed and shared a bed, they had not truly been intimate since their rescue. Now, facing the reality of a life apart, this kiss sparked a fire between them.

Hank felt her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt and then felt his body tighten as her hands moved up over his stomach and chest. In response, Jenna felt his grip tighten on her waist.

"You know I love you, right?" Hank almost purred at her as she pulled his shirt over his head.

"You've mentioned it," she gasped breathily as he planted kisses on her exposed neck and collarbones. "I love you too."

Hank pulled her camisole over her head and tossed it aside as she worked to get him out of his pants.

"Surely," he breathed as their naked bodies pressed together, "we will find each other on the other side."

"I hope so…" Jenna replied, pulling his mouth to hers.

As his lips drifted to her chest and stomach, Jenna could not help but watch him with a new appreciation. She could see him, she knew him, and they were safe here. For a moment, she was struck with the thought that maybe this should be enough. Maybe _he_ should be enough. But she knew that there was no future for them here like this. Parts of them had died in that dome beneath the sea and there was not enough left of them to give.

Hank felt her pull him toward her, felt her guiding him inside of her. He did not want to lose this, this intimacy that meant she looked him in the eye as he moved within her. That she cried out with pure abandon. But he knew that she would have never given herself to him like this in the mansion, that their relationship had been forged on a muddy floor in a woods and that was all it was suited for. It was withering away with or without the memories of what had happened to them.

This bliss and passion was all either of them wanted and what neither of them was able to give. Only now, on the edge of losing it all, could they find it in themselves to ignite it one last time.


	11. Chapter 9: Ever After

_And this is the last chapter! Let me know what you think! I'm far happier with this ending._

* * *

The next morning found both of them lying on stretchers in Hank's lab. Quire was holding a portable version of Cerebro, and again the teen was struck by the planning and determination that had put this machine in his hands.

"You guys want a minute or…?"

Hank and Jenna laced fingers across the space between them. Blue eyes met green and Jenna blinked furiously, holding tears at bay. Then Hank broke eye contact to stare at the ceiling above him.

"Begin."

Quentin Quire placed the mini Cerebro on his head and focused his powers on them. He had requested trying both of them at the same time, hoping to prevent any fall out from completing one and not the other.

He dove into their minds, breaking past the guards in Jenna's mind with ease, and was overwhelmed by what he found there. He alone was seeing what had happened to them. He alone was learning the source of their panic and rage and isolation. And he alone was aware of the depth of their feelings for one another.

Memories began to fade as he stood in their minds and he began to have doubts. Something this enormous should not be taken from them. How could he possibly explain the gaps? How could he cut away emotions this deep? But powerful as he was, Quentin Quire lacked practice. He struggled to stop the process he had started and their minds became more and more fragile the harder he tried.

The telepathic activity had drawn attention though. For Emma, Quire's struggle was the equivalent of someone setting off a mental bomb. She rushed into the room, screaming, "Stop fighting! You'll kill them!"

Quentin relaxed and Emma called for the Stepford Cuckoos to join them before diving in with him. Quentin heard her gasp loudly as she too was flooded with all that had happened to the couple. She saw herself, looming large over Jenna and understood why she had shown such distance and contempt for her.

In minutes, the Cuckoos joined them and the force of Jenna and Hank's memories had finally dispersed enough for the telepaths to free themselves. The five of them left Beast and Jenna's minds shaking and unsure of what had been done in them.

The minute Quire pulled the helmet off, it was yanked from his hands and he felt Emma slap him across the face.

"I would ask you why you did that but we are now _all_ fully aware of why. What have you done?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "I started to erase their memories but… it seemed wrong."

"No kidding, asshole," Celeste hissed at him, rubbing her temples.

Hank groaned loudly and lurched up. Emma half threw a trash can at him just in time as he emptied his stomach. Jenna followed suit not moments later, saved equally narrowly by Mindee flinging a bucket her way.

Emma rubbed Hank's back as he breathed heavily. "What do you remember, Hank?"

"I don't know…" he looked over at Jenna. Their eyes met as she turned to him in return.

"I remember asking him to erase our memories," she panted. "And everything else seems…"

"Like it happened years ago," Hank finished and she nodded.

"So you can remember what happened to you, when Danger took you?"

"Yes."

"But you're okay with it?" Quire broke in.

"Yeah… at least… I feel like I can deal with it," Jenna said slowly. She stood up on weak legs and spoke over her shoulder as she left. "Thanks, Quentin. I'm sorry we put you in that position."

Hank stood, nodding. "I think I need some time…" He walked away unsteadily, without even a glance behind him.

While being free of the trauma and overwhelming fear of their experiences was a gift that he could not even express in words, Hank's feelings for Jenna no longer made sense. He knew he _had_ loved her. He knew they had been lovers and he knew he had once felt she was the only thing that mattered to him. But it felt as though they had drifted apart.

Over the next few weeks, his heart twisted when he saw her in the halls. When he heard her laugh, an almost foreign sound since their return, his stomach soared. But they were awkward and uncertain, blushing and bumbling when faced with conversation. They gravitated to one another, then fumbled for words and a sense of how to behave.

About a month after their kidnapping, Jenna had made up some flimsy excuse to show up in his room after hours. Since the memory fix, they had stopped co-habitating and there were things of hers still left in his room. One could argue that it almost seemed as if she had done this on purpose.

Jenna knew full well that was exactly what she had done and that she had made a habit of doing this. It was easier to see him and be with him when she knew eyes would not be on them. She had knocked on his door and inwardly thrilled at the sound of his voice as he told her to come in. Hank's eyes had widened appreciatively as they took in her thin gauzy cami and small shorts. She similarly took pleasure in his current shirtless state. They had both put on weight in the last month, filling out from the skull-and-bones bodies they had arrived in.

"Missing a notebook," she offered by way of explanation. Jenna had taken to writing, pages and pages of reflections and memories from what had happened to them and from before. And with each word the weight had lifted and become easier to bear.

He crossed to his desk and she moved into the room, shutting the door behind her, as he picked up a composition notebook up and turned back to her. He stopped far closer to her than was necessary and immediately dropped the notebook. She laughed and bent to pick it up, displaying gorgeous breasts that he had very distinct memories of.

"Sorry," he grinned.

"No problem."

And that was when the weirdness would usually set in. Moving beyond visual appreciation, smiling, and a light teasing had become an intimidating obstacle.

"Hey…"

Jenna lifted her eyes to his and blushed. She could not look him in the face without wanting to kiss him. And yet it felt like she would be kissing a near stranger or a past crush. "Yes?"

"This might be odd, but I miss you."

Jenna grinned up at him. "No. I miss you too."

"So what might you say if I were to ask you on a date?"

"I might say yes. Just speaking rhetorically of course."

"Well good to know. Good night then!"

Jenna laughed aloud as he pretended to turn away before turning back.

"Would you go on a date with me, Jenna?"

"No."

Now it was Hank's turn to laugh. She was positively glowing.

"I would be delighted," she said.

Their date was dinner at a sushi fusion bar as Hank knew Jenna had only ever had sushi once and he needed her to understand what she had been missing out on.

On the way there, he had teased her about her inability to drive, which resulted in her making him promise to teach her how. She had exacted some revenge though by pulling put clusters of fur that were lose through the back of his head since he was shedding in the summer heat and acting horrified at his personal grooming. And then, out of habit, Jenna found herself rubbing his scalp with her fingertips.

"This," he had purred, resisting the urge to close his eyes since he was driving, "is a perfect example of something I miss."

Jenna hadn't replied, but had dropped her hand and leaned across the space between them to rest her head on his shoulder. She missed _everything_ about "them." She was almost homesick for their relationship.

The meal had been lighter, conversationally sticking to things that had happened in their absence, of which there was an alarming amount. It was rather amazing how much the X-men could go through in six months. Inevitably new couples had formed and old couples (including Kitty and Bobby) had broken apart. And then their was _their_ relationship, out of time with the rest of the world.

"How many of your friends seem confused by us?" Jenna teased.

"About half and half. Some have informed me it was a matter of time no matter what. I'm inclined to agree." Between the drink and being with Jenna, he had found himself unwinding quickly, coils of tension releasing.

"What do you mean?"

That question nearly stopped his heart dead. He had made the comment offhandedly and trying to explain it would be awkward.

"I mean… I always assumed _before_ we were taken that at some point…"

"Did you really?"

He watched Jenna lean forward, eyes fixed on him. "I really did. Yes."

She smiled at him and his heart started beating again. "I never realized," she said. "You were so close to everyone but me it seemed."

"Well, you caught my attention (albeit that first time by swearing in my face) and you just kept catching it. And after giving you so much of it… I really liked you."

Jenna's heart melted. It was exactly what she had needed to hear. She had worried since even before the memory fix, since their rescue, that their relationship had been a fluke. She had worried that it had been a sort of survival instinct or Stockholm syndrome. But she had long craved his attention too.

"Have you talked about what happened to us with anyone?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"A few people. I find myself surprised I _can_ talk about it. It is such a relief."

Jenna nodded emphatically. "Jono and Skin nearly fell out of their chairs when I told them. And it was so good to be able to explain why we were so fucked up when we got back."

"Did they understand?"

She shrugged. "They tried. But how can you grasp the enormity of it? We were gone for half a year. And there are still triggers everywhere." She ran a hand through the pixie length hair that had grown in. "My hair's only started to grow back and I feel a compulsive need to shave it off, just to have it gone."

Hank leaned in now as well. "I find myself hoarding food. In my pockets… in my room… and it's not like we've gone hungry at the _mansion_."

"I know! And the bed? I still wake up convinced that I'm in Bluebeard's castle."

Hank shook his head in wonder. "How do you explain that? How could they possibly understand?"

Their eyes met and in that moment they both knew that no one would ever understand them the way that they understood each other. No one ever could.

They left shortly after, fingers laced and hearts pounding. They returned to the school, quieter in the emotions that had now opened between them.

"Well thank you for bearing with my horrible presence for the evening," Hank teased, as they came to a stop outside of Jenna's room.

"I don't believe I've excused you quite yet, sir," Jenna replied. She reveled in the look he gave her and watched his knees go weak.

He did not protest as she opened the door and pulled him into the room. And he certainly did not protest as she pulled his lips to hers. Or as she pulled his jacket from his shoulders. But he did pull back when he found himself running his hand up the inside of her bare thigh.  
"Why on earth have you stopped?" she breathed, only barely containing the whine that she felt.

"Do you think… Maybe we should take this slowly? Things have been unusual and I don't want you to feel that our former precedent must be followed if —"

"Do you want to take things slowly?" she interrupted.

He stared at her, trying to come up with a suitable answer and failing.

Jenna continued, moving toward him and slowly dropping the straps from her shoulders. "Because while I never saw us dating as inevitable, I certainly believed that if you and I did not spend at least one night together I would surely have done something seriously wrong."

Hank watched her dress slide to the floor and felt himself go hard. He pulled off his button down, fingers fumbling in their haste, as she slowly worked his pants to the floor.

"And how exactly were you hoping to take advantage of me, my dear?" he rumbled in a voice husky with want.

Jenna pushed him onto her bed, reached below it, and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He grinned and pulled her close.


End file.
